


Five Nights In The Dark (Reader Insert)

by CatogenicLightning



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (and maybe tip me off on it), Gen, Oh also, i don't know how to use ao3 yet, i should warn that there's a LOT of cursing in here too, just threats until then, mostly thanks to Allen (in the second chapter), so bare with me if i've done something wrong, there's not any violence really until the 3rd chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatogenicLightning/pseuds/CatogenicLightning
Summary: To give it to you short in clean, you are the new nightguard of Hetaloid Idol Pizzeria (The Whole World In One Building!). You found it sort of weird that they're paying you so much for such a simple, generally low paying job. The robots performing and keeping the place clean, also known as Hetaloids, seem nice enough, but there's some secrets you quickly uncover yourself and many more to follow....





	1. Night One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's your first night on the job, and to be honest you couldn't be more unnerved. You've never worked a night shift before, but you already don't sleep and they're giving you money for it, so you thought 'why not?' There's something a little uncanny about your workplace, though, and before you know it what seemed like a simple job becomes a matter of life and death.

I stare up at the glowing neon sign above me, exclaiming “Hetaloid Idol Pizzeria! The Whole World In One Building!” in glaring bright text. In the year or so I’ve lived in this small town, I haven’t set foot inside before now. Not for any particular reason, really; for the most part, I’ve just never had any reason to.

But now, I’m about to be the new nightguard here. I look down at the badge glimmering on my chest and take a deep breath. This place is owned by a rich company—dirty rich—so even though this is a rather small-looking business is a nearly smaller town, I can’t afford to make mistakes.

The interior is nothing like I expected, practically body-slamming me with a wave of pure joy that leaves me all sorts of breathless. Children cheer and laugh all across the room, flooding my senses. Coincidentally, the curtains on the stage draw back right as I enter, and I’m surprised that I nearly mistake the animatronic on stage for a human. His tan skin and messy blonde hair look incredibly real, and he carries a bright, nearly human smile on his face.

"Hey kids!" The chipper personification of the United States shouts from the stage, his eyes sparkling happily. The cheering gets louder yet and I can’t help but to laugh to myself. I used to be this enthusiastic when I was little.

"HEY ALFRED!!!" The mob of screaming children yells back in surprising unison, making the very floor vibrate beneath me. Somehow, the cheering gets louder still as the curtains draw back further to show the rest of the fabled 'Great-Eight' group. Ivan, Ludwig, Feliciano, Kiku, Arthur, Francis, and Yao, all personifications of powerful countries from around the world, join the main star of the show.

The show begins as the group sings their intro, accompanied by the off-beat and out-of-tune, though undeniably adorable, voices of the crowd. I stand static for a few moments, admiring the show with a certain reserved curiosity, but my mind is elsewhere. If I was a kid, I’d be allowed to be invested in it all, but nervous thoughts about my job consume me for the time being.

I’ve worked a few night shifts in my time, as they’re very nearly the only jobs that line up neatly with my forever-fucked up sleep schedule. A pizzeria almost never pays brilliantly, of course, but I almost just moved here—a couple months ago at most—and this job is as good as any for a start. I mean, as far as I could tell, it pays _extremely_ well for being the sort of job it is. I suppose this is a stupid rich company I’m working for here, and though it does seem a little excessive… well, I’m not one to complain by any means.

The robots onstage are incredibly detailed and animated, just like real people. I wouldn’t doubt their ability to cause envy in robbers and admirers alike, so that might be part of the reason for the high pay. Though, to be honest, I’m not exactly what one would call well-equipped to fend off burglars, and I haven’t heard anything about having to defend the pizzeria.

Whatever the matter, I can only hope it'll all be fine.

Even with the animatronics resting snugly on the edge of the uncanny valley, there’s not much here that really gives me the creeps. Clearly a whole bunch of love was poured into these robots, evident in every detail, and they’re even great with kids! I mean, I’m sure the pizzeria will take on a bit of a creepier atmosphere once I’m the only one here and all the lights are off, but really; what’s the worst thing these child-loving androids could manage?

 

I’m brought out of my thoughts as the remaining crowd of guests erupts into applause. The last performance has ended, meaning it’s a little before eleven o’clock now—the latest this place stays open during the summer. I chuckle to myself as the Hetaloids wave goodbye, watching parents lead their children out of the building.

A silence falls over the room as day employees usher out final customers, the leading animatronics beginning to head backstage as the clamour dies down. I watch them go and sigh. It’s probably almost time for my shift to start, and just that thought has made me more anxious than ever.

Shaking out my nerves one final time, I turn my attention away from the nearly empty party room and head for the employee lounge, intending to pick up my materials for the night. The last day shift employees are filing out just as I’m walking in, leaving me by myself in an unfamiliar building.

I huff out another sigh. This is going to be a long night.

**One Hundred Percent Power  
Twelve O'Clock A.M.**

Chimes ring through the building as I lounge in the rolling chair in the security office, signaling the start of my shift. Despite being perfectly awake literally every other night before this one, I can already tell that I’m beginning to feel a bit drowsy. I suppose that’s how night shifts can tend to be, especially since almost nothing ever happens. It’ll just be six hours of watching cameras and trying not to pass out.

Letting out a deep breath, I flip open my tablet to check the cameras.

 **The Stage** —The Stage is empty  
**West Hall** —Just flashing lights and kids’ drawings  
**East Hall** —Same here  
**Closet** —The Maintenance and Server Hetaloids have shut down here. It’s a lot bigger than any closet I’ve ever seen.

 **Party Room** —Empty  
**The Bar** —The Bar Hetaloids appear to be organizing. Er… Allistor is, Gilbert is trying to mess him up.  
**Backstage** —The G8 reside here, shut down.  
**???** —It looks like some sort of curtain with a chain stretched across it.

I tilt my head. Why is there a camera here, positioned towards a wall? That’s assuming the curtain doesn’t, for some reason, lead to some exit, but I wouldn’t think that it does.

Whatever, I suppose I’ll keep an eye on it just like the rest of this facility.

Becoming bored with staring at the static, unmoving photos that claim to be videos of this location, I set my tablet down on the desk. It’s only been a few minutes and I’m already so inattentive. Maybe this wasn’t as good of a job for me as I had thought.

The phone rings and I jolt in my seat, surprised at the sound. I hadn’t noticed the old-style dial telephone on the desk beforehand despite it being bright red. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should pick it up or not. No one told me I’d receive any phone calls tonight, and it could very well be some sort of prank call. Or my boss, which is less fun of an idea. It should at least provide some form of entertainment to this bland night, whatever it may be.

It takes me a moment to find it, but I’m quick to press the answering button.

 _"Uh, hello, hello?”_ A male voice crackles over the phone. I start to respond, but he doesn’t even give me a moment to speak. _“Um, hey… I-I just wanted to record a message to help you settle down for your first night as nightguard of… this place!”_ Oh. It’s a recording. That makes more sense. _“As an employee myself, I h-have all the t-t-tips and tricks in the book. I-I’m finishing up my, uh, last week n-now, as a matter of fact!”_ He seems to have some sort of speech impediment, though it doesn’t bug me.

 _“S-so! I know this place c-can be a bit… overwhelming, or m-maybe even scary at first, but I'm here t-to tell you that there's nothing to worry about. I’m s-s-sure you'll, uh, d-do fine…,”_ he says, abruptly trailing off to silence. He doesn’t sound so sure to me. _“L-let's just focus on getting you through the first week, okay?"_

I nod to myself as I process his words. So this guy on the phone was a nightguard before me? I wonder why I haven’t heard about him before. I wonder why I wasn’t even told about this message he left behind.

 _"Uh, let's see…,”_ he mutters, and I hear the faint shuffling of papers on the other end of the line. _“First, w-we have the company i-in-introductory that I’m r-required t-to, um, to read. You know, it's a, uh, k-kinda a legal thing.”_

I shift in my seat as he begins to read. _“Welcome to Hetaloid Idol Pizzeria, a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life! Hetacorp Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person, and upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed after the walls and carpets of the establishment have been thoroughly cleaned.”_

“What the hell?” I mutter out loud. That’s certainly not a normal introductory if I’ve ever heard one, and to be quite honest it’s concerning to hear my employers so carelessly speak of my death like it’s a very possible outcome.

The man on the phone chuckles nervously. _“N-now, I know that may sound bad, I know, b-but, uh, there's really nothing to worry about."_ Of course there isn’t.

 _“So, uh, part of the reason f-for the introductory is that there’s a specific, uh, s-set of Hetaloid characters that tend to get a b-bit… quirky at night. Um. W-well, uh…,”_ he trails off like he doesn’t know what to say. _“I’m not allowed to, what…?”_ he mutters to himself, and the recording falls silent for a few moments.

“They get quirky?” I ask myself. I don’t know what that means, and honestly, I don’t want to know what that means. Is this some sorta horror story I’m trapped in?

 _“U-uh, anyway! Y-you may have, uh, noticed that one of the ca-cameras is, uh, p-pointed straight at a c-curtain, right? N-now that may seem a bit, uh, odd at f-first, I’m sure, b-but there’s a good reason for it! T-that’s the camera you, uh, w-wanna keep y-your eyes on, uh, on the most!”_ he explains, sounding a little flustered. _“That place we call the Doppelganger Hangar, though… r-really I, uh, just call the Hangar."_

" _A-and, uh… well, h-how do I put this? The, uh, t-the Hetaloids… have a free-roam mode a-at, uh, at night. S-something to, uh, do with th-their servers locking, um, up i-if they stay s-s-still for too long. F-for the most part, uh, they j-just wander around aimlessly and l-leave me… they’ll l-leave you be_ ,” he explains, his voice strained. “ _B-but… the ones in the, uh, in the Hangar… t-they’re not so nice._ "

I feel my throat go dry at his words. Free-roam mode? This place is definitely going to end up creepier than I thought, then, if these Hetaloids are just freely wandering the halls like grown-ass humans. But that’s not the most concerning part, if I couldn’t make it more obvious. By the way he’s talking about it, it sounds like there’s something _dangerous_ in the hangar.

 _“I kn-know it’s just a rumour, for the most part anyway, uh, but, um, you remember t-t-that whole ‘Dismantling of ‘07’ shtick? Or at least heard about it?_ He asks. Being new in town, I’m not surprised that I haven’t, but it certainly piques my interest. _“Y-yeah, well… I’m s-s-starting to think tha-that these are the s-same guys. D-don’t know w-wh-why they don’t scrap ‘em, b-but, um, I suppose th-that’s none of my business,”_ he mumbles.

The ‘Dismantling of ‘07….’ I don’t even know where to begin or what that might suggest, but it can’t have been anything good.

 _"Uh, n-now… concerning your safety; I-I can, uh, tell you right now that the Hetaloids on stage are completely harmless. If they do come by it’ll m-most likely be to talk, but they rarely come by. They’re… a little shy, yeah,”_ the man sighs. _“The o-only real threat to you as the new nightguard here, if any, would be that… well, the o-ones from the, uh, Hangar—2p’s, we c-call them—th-they… will be v-very, uh, very… interested… in… you.”_

 _Interested_ in me, huh? That can’t mean anything good either. At best, they’re just going to be incredibly creepy as they come by my office to figure out who I am, and at worst… well, no one ever wants to think about the worst.

 _“U-um… t-they’re usually n-not too bad… though the-they can, uh, be a bit… handsy?”_ the man continues, and my heart drops with fear. _“Th-they’re mostly just, uh… curious, yeah, curious, es-especially since you’re the, uh, new night g-guard. If t-they do come by… I would suggest… t-talking to them, without letting them s-see you. M-most of them are pretty easily di-, um, distracted."_

Alright, well, fuck. Not only do I have to worry about the Hetaloids harmlessly wandering the facility while I watch from the cameras, but I also have to deal with some _quirky_ animatronics who are _handsy_.

 _"And, uh, I-I mean... if worst comes to worst... you se- uh, see th-that little button ne-near each of the, uh, doors?”_ I glance towards the West door at his words, spotting the small red button by luck more than anything. There's a little red button, sure enough, with a small white 'E' imprinted on it. _"Y-yeah, well... if worst c-comes to, uh, w-worst.... Press that."_

 _“Anyway, I th-think that’s enough explanation for t-tonight!”_ the man on the phone announces. _“I’ll, uh, chat with you tomorrow… hopefully…. S-so, uh, just m-make sure to ch-check those cameras as, uh, as often as you c-can and only close those, uh, d-doors when you need to! M-make sure you, uh, conserve power a-and all…. Anyway, good night!”_

Just like that, the recorded message ends with a click, leaving me in stunned silence. This job is certainly more _interesting_ then I had first expected, and even though I was bored out of my mind only a few minutes ago, I think I’d rather go back to this just being some boring job that I’d have to slog through than anything actually dangerous.

So let me get this straight. All of the Hetaloids in this building have a ‘free-roam’ mode, and even though the ones on stage are fine… the others aren’t? Does that mean all of the others, like the maintenance and bar Hetaloids? I sure hope not, cause that would mean a lot of things for me to keep track of. I do know one thing for sure, though; there’s animatronics in the Hangar, and they’re… _quirky_.

I still hate that word choice.

Sighing deeply as I try to regain my resolve, I flick the cameras up again. Thankfully, this just shows me that everything’s still in place. A wave of relief washes over me. I don’t have to worry about anything—not yet, at least.

The man on the phone didn’t specify the difference between the normal Hetaloids and the ‘quirky’ ones, so along with glancing at the Hangar every few moments, I can’t help but to check the stage, bar, and closet as well. I know he said that the animatronics on the stage weren’t dangerous… but that leaves so many possibilities for literally everything else in here to be dangerous!

Damn, that phone guy has certainly made me paranoid if nothing else.

**Fifty-One Percent Power  
Three Fifty-Nine A.M.**

Nothing has changed since I got the phone call, even though it’s been close to four hours since then. I’ve become insanely bored within that time, even with the knowledge of a possible threat being out there somewhere, waiting to pounce on me. The only things that have moved are the G8 animatronics, occasionally glancing around and seeming to look directly at the camera for a few moments each time they do so. I get the sense that they might be checking on me, though I’m not sure why.

The worst part of all of this is there isn’t even wifi in this part of the building for me to occupy myself with, leaving me bored out of my mind as I wait for the minutes to slowly pass by. It’s excruciating.

Checking the cameras has already become a force of habit by now, and I tend to scroll through them every few minutes just in case. I pick up my tablet to give them a look.

 **The Stage** —Alfred and Arthur are out on the stage, suddenly. They appear to be glaring at something off stage… but I can’t quite tell.  
**West Hall** —Same as always  
**East Hall** —Ditto  
**Closet** —Some of the Hetaloids have woken up and appear to be talking.

Clearly, something has changed in the past few minutes between now and when I last checked. I dread to learn what that ‘something’ is.

 **Party Room** —…….

For some reason, the party room is just a blank screen, turning to static whenever I click on the button again as if that will help it work. I don’t know why that’s happening or what that means… but I have to check the other cameras right now.

 **The Bar** —The Bar Hetaloids are all shut down now.  
**Backstage** —The rest of the G-8 reside, all awake.

My finger hovers over the button for the Hangar. Every time I get to the Hangar, the last camera in my order, I end up hesitating. It’s only been a few minutes since I last looked at it, but I feel like anything could’ve happened while I was looking away. I take a deep breath as I summon my guts, preparing myself in case worst comes to worst.

 **Doppelgänger Hangar** —Open….

Oh shit. My heart nearly jumps out of chest just at the sight of the curtains being thrown wide open, the apprehension from the phone guy’s words leaving me reeling. However—and this may very well be even worse—I don’t see anyone in or around the hangar. They must be somewhere else in the building now.

But I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the places I did check already! That means… they must be in the party room. Suddenly it makes sense as to why Alfred and Arthur looked like they were glaring at something offstage. They 100% were.

I quickly flick to the party room, my eyes widening as the static finally clears. There, standing in the center of the party room with a disturbingly wide grin on his face, is a Hetaloid I’ve never seen before in my life. He sort of looks like Arthur, though their palettes are practically completely swapped. Instead of the army green uniform and black boots Arthur wears, this Hetaloid is wearing a dark blue sweater vest with a light pink dress shirt underneath, completing the look with a baby blue bowtie.

I can’t see most of his lower body from the view of the camera, but I can see his brown pants. His hair is strawberry blonde, and although it’s just as messy as Arthur’s, the colour makes it look completely different. Additionally, his face is covered in freckles.

Who is this Hetaloid supposed to be?

Whoever he is, he seems to be staring straight back at Arthur and Alfred, and switching between the Party Room and Main Stage cameras, I can tell they’re having some sort of angry conversation. I can’t help but feel tempted to switch to audio mode. The guide had said it would momentarily disable my cameras, but I think it’ll be worth it to get a little bit of insight into my current situation.

"… bloody wanker, why can't you leave the poor watchman alone?!?" I hear the British voice of Arthur finish.

“That would be no fun, poppet~” the Arthur lookalike responds, his voice a little faint as he’s offscreen.

“Don’t bloody call me that, you bloke,” Arthur snarls back, and I hear shuffling footsteps.

“Dude, no!” Alfred cries, and I imagine he’s holding Arthur back. “It’s not worth it.” Is there some sort of danger to the Hetaloids onstage if they try to help me? Based on how furious Arthur is that his lookalike is heading after me, I can’t shake the feeling that he might be somewhat dangerous.

“Good boys~” the Arthur lookalike crows, and I feel an unnerving shiver run up my spine at the sound of his laugh. Taking his words as my cue that I could potentially be in some sort of danger now, I quickly switch back to camera mode.

The Hetaloid is staring directly into the camera now, grinning widely, and I can’t help but to imagine he must be trying to scare me. His eyes, which I hadn’t been able to see previously, are a swirling mess of pink and blue, the two colours in his eyes conflicting and clashing as he says something towards the camera. His grin grows as he speaks and my stomach churns.

I can’t believe I almost thought he was cute.

Without much effort or precaution, the Hetaloid exits the party room, heading for the west hallway, and Arthur doesn't stop him. I’m on my own.

I quickly change the camera to view the west corridor, watching the Arthur lookalike prance down the hall all too cheerfully. As he grows close, I began to hear the sound of him whistling something that sounds like a national anthem, though it carries a creepier vibe than I thought a simple tune ever could. He picks up his pace a little as he rounds the corner, and I’m all too quick to jump up from my seat and slam my fist down on the door button.

The metal door comes barrelling to the floor, effectively separating me from the approaching Hetaloid. He pauses at the sound, and through the camera I see his expression go from cheery to absolutely furious. He stares up at the camera, the colours in his eyes swirling menacingly, and I keep staring back at him. For a few seconds, neither of us move, but then the Hetaloid breaks into a full out sprint towards the door I just closed, disappearing from the camera’s view.

I'm unable to contain a small shriek of terror as Oliver slams his fist into the metal door, causing the poor thing to literally shake from the impact.

"'Ello~? Poppet, I know you're in there~! Open the door and I promise I'll be a good friend~!" The Hetaloid sings in his high pitched, slightly unnerving voice, rapping on the door with his knuckles. I clutch my tablet to my chest, feeling my heartbeat in my throat. This is inexplicably terrifying, or maybe rationally terrifying. I’m not quite sure yet, I’m just scared.

The Hetaloid punches the door and I squeak. “Come on, poppet~ At the very least speak to me!” he pleads in his sugar sweet voice, and I immediately feel a strong impulse to speak come over me.

"W-what do you want?" I stutter nervously, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

"Why, all I want is to meet you~! And, I mean, other friendly things too, but really I just want to see who you are!" the Hetaloid tells me cheerily, and I shudder. Even though nothing he’s said has really indicated that he wants to hurt me, I really don’t like the way he’s speaking. That last sentence, especially, could be taken in multiple ways, and I dread to know which one he means.

“O-oh, well,” I start hesitantly. “You know, I would certainly love to chat, but I’m a bit busy right now. I have to keep an eye on things and make sure nothing goes wrong, you know? Surely you understand,” I offer, my breath shaking.

He doesn’t take the bait. “Oh, poppet~ I would open the door if I were you!” he purrs, the subtle threat in his words a lot more clear this time.

I fall silent, considering my options. I don’t know what this Hetaloid wants yet, and it could be anything from a friendly chat to… the unthinkable, something like my life. And judging from what the man on the phone said, it’s going to lean much more towards the unthinkable.

“Poppet? You know, if you don’t come out by yourself I might just have to come get you!” he exclaims, seeming to notice my hesitant silence. I hate how cheerful he sounds saying such creepy things. “If you come with me now, you’d avoid so much pain! Allen and James aren’t as nice as I am… they wouldn’t treat you right, you know~”

“Allen and James?” I ask curiously, trying to change the subject. While of course I do want to learn what I can while I’m here, I mostly just want to divert this Hetaloid’s attention from me. If I can keep this guy talking I’ll at least have more time to formulate some sort of plan.

"Oh, but of course! Those two are _such_ dears, though they’re both such harsh potty mouths! I had to implement a swear jar to get them to stop but… poor Allen doesn’t seem to care about much,” the Hetaloid explains, and I make a mental note not to curse at him if I can help it. I wonder what they put in the swear jar, though, since they’re robots not integrated into society. It wouldn’t really make sense if they had money on them… but at the same time, it doesn’t make sense for them to put ‘nothing’ in the swear jar. That would be a terrible incentive.

“Oh…. Well, uh, who are you, then?” I ask next.

He chuckles goofily. “Why, I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself! Silly me! The name’s Oliver, I’m the 2p of that grumpy bloke on stage!” he exclaims happily.

Huh, so that’s why he looks like Arthur. But… “What does 2p mean?”

“Well now _that’s_ just a silly codename given to us by the managers! It just sort of means… that we aren’t the… originals,” Oliver explains, abruptly sounding quite a bit saddened. “But oh, we’re far more interesting than any of the blokes on stage, quite honestly!”

“I have to admit that I’m curious,” I confess. “What’s, um…, what’s behind the curtain that you came out of, though? How many other 2ps are back there?” I question.

There’s a sudden pause from Oliver. “Well it wasn’t my fault we were put in there,” he mumbles, upset. “If anything, it’s completely Luciano’s fault. Or maybe Viktor’s…. Ugh, I don’t know, it wasn’t mine,” he growls.

“I didn’t say it was,” I assure him, rolling my eyes. _That’s not what I asked you either._ “But who’s, um, Luciano? Or Viktor?”

Just like that, Oliver is back to his ordinary peppy attitude. “Oh! Luciano’s just a bloke on the other team, still in that insufferable group called the Axis. A very hot-headed fellow, and also quite the potty mouth! I almost can’t stand how rude he is sometimes!" he responds cheerily, a wave of sarcastic anger in his voice as he berates Luciano.

“Will you let me in now, poppet~?” Oliver suddenly interjects into our conversation, and in an instant, I’m not feeling as safe as I was previously. “I know you might be wary of me, and that’s understandable, but I promise with a cherry on top a huge vanilla cupcake I won’t kill you~!” he announces.

My head spins and I find myself reaching for the door button, but I force myself to hesitate. “Um, I don’t know Oliver,” I stutter nervously. Why does he feel the need to promise that he won’t kill me? That phrase by itself sends off red flags in my mind. “I mean, I do trust you, I swear I do. But… you were banging on my door only thirty minutes ago,” I explain, hoping this won’t anger him. I’m not quite sure if this Hetaloid is even able to experience anger, but I’m not about to try and find out.

“No, no! You’re misunderstanding me completely!” Oliver cries excitedly. “I was only banging on your door to make sure you weren’t asleep or something silly like that!” _But… he reacted when I shut the door…?_

“I, uh, I really don’t… know…,” I say, trying to organize my thoughts, but my head’s beginning to become a confusing cesspool. Oliver’s voice is drawing me in like a Siren, and I’m sweating at the mere effort of just standing still rather than letting the Hetaloid inside. “D-didn’t you hear me close the door only moments before you got to it?”

Oliver laughs uproariously. “Oh, poppet, you silly little thing! Why won’t you just let me in?” he coos, easily avoiding my question.

“B-because I-” I can’t think of anything. “Because….” My hands shake as my eyes skitter around the room, struggling to make up a good excuse. I can’t think of _anything at all_. I reach for the buttons, ready to open the door for Oliver, and suddenly I get an epiphany.

 _Wait! The hall light!_ The sight of the button causes a light bulb to flash in my mind. “Because I need to see you first,” I say, confidence returning to my voice as I slam my fist onto the lights button.

Silhouetted all too clearly against the thick glass of the office window, the sight of Oliver’s shadow makes my heart skip a beat. Even in the unfocused, flashing lights from outside, I can see his stance clearly—he’s set up to strike me down as soon as I open the door, and in his hand, he’s holding something long, slender, and sharp.

_A butcher knife._

Immediately, as panic begins to well up within me, I find that I’m able to pull myself out of the trance Oliver put me into, shaking the confusion out of my head. There’s no doubt about it now that Oliver intends to hurt or even kill me, looking at how he’s holding the knife over his head. I wonder how long he’s been ready to hurt me.

I pull my hands away from the buttons, feeling fresh waves of fear, accompanied by a tide of anger, roll over me. “Oliver?” I start, my voice tense.

The Hetaloid senses my unease. “Yes, poppet? You fell silent for a moment there, are you quite alright?”

I ignore his pseudo-sympathetic questions. “Why do you have a _knife?_ ” I snap, trying not to sound as terrified as I am right now.

Oliver seems taken aback. “Oh, well, poppet-” he starts, but I cut him off. I’m tired of his cutesy act.

“It’s (Y/N),” I snap.

“Well, _(Y/N)_ ,” Oliver continues, a sharp edge to his voice as he says my name. “I suppose I shouldn’t just assume all humans are malleable idiots, hm~?” he sneers, and I gulp. So he was trying to twist me around his fingers. “Though you were close to messing up, I know you were. Your fingers were on the button, poppet~”

I grumble at his words. All he’s doing right now is revealing exactly how malicious he is, though now that I’ve seen him poised to attack with a knife, I suppose he can’t actually deny it.

“Though I suppose now that you won’t fall for my tricks anymore… I may just have to get you by force~” Oliver sings.

"Try me, you Willy Wonka wannabe!" I hiss towards the door, standing my ground. I’m not afraid of this really… freaky… robot that wants to kill me! I may have literally nothing to defend myself and about one and a half hours left in my shift, but goddammit I will survive this!

Oliver hits the door harder than ever before, making me jump. “That wasn’t v-very _nice_ , p-p-poppet~” Oliver sneers, his voice beginning to freak out and glitch as he grows angry.

“N-now you’ll h-have to p-pay,” he snarls, and there’s another terrifyingly loud clang of metal against metal. To my horror, however, this time Oliver actually leaves a dent in the door. The cat’s certainly got my tongue this time, and it’s not letting me go anytime soon. If he can do that much damage in an instant, how the _hell_ am I supposed to survive close to two hours?!

“Then YOU-” Another dent.

“ _W-WILL-_ ” Another, causing my entire body to quake with fear.

“BE-” I’m worried the metal’s going to tear any moment, the material bending painfully under Oliver’s fury.

“MINE!!”

His voice turns hauntingly robotic as he shouts that last word, and I can’t help but to scream in response when I actually witness his knife pierce through the metal of the door, its shiny metal tip gleaming lowly through the tear. That’s no ordinary kitchen knife, that’s for sure. It could cut through my bones with ease.

Again and again, almost in a feverish frenzy, Oliver slams his knife into the door, easily mutilating the barrier that was protecting me from him. Sparks fly as metal clashes with metal, revealing bits of complicated wiring and gizmos as the door cries out as if in pain. Despite the horrific display, I find myself unable to move, glued into place as I imagine, over and over again, Oliver doing the exact same thing to me.

Oliver keeps hacking at it until the hole is wide for him to fit his hand through, and then, to my horror, he sticks his entire freckled arm in and begins to tear at the metal with his bare hands. I sort of forgot that he can do that with how human he looks, but now I’m too scared to think. This guy is hella intent on killing me!

I really wonder how the guy on the phone lived through all of this, this just happening on the first day (and, according to Oliver, most of the others are _definitely worse_ ). Though I do understand why he made those recordings beforehand. Going into this blind would’ve been a hell like none other

Thankfully, it is taking Oliver quite a while to make any truly significant progress with his hole in the door, and I can tell he’s getting tired from the grunts and growls he makes. I mean, maybe he’s getting tired, I don’t know if Hetaloids can do that. Whatever the matter, he’s certainly not giving up, leaving me to huddle in the furthest corner of the room and hope no one else comes out to play tonight.

I glance at the time and feel my stomach squirm. I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold out for much longer, especially since my power seems to be draining away a lot faster with the door down. I only have an hour or so left, but that in itself might be too much.

Plus, who says Oliver’s going to just up and retreat once my shift is over? The man on the phone didn’t exactly indicate what happens if I survive this nightmare, and I could very well still be in some sort of danger even after six o’clock. At the same time, though… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay sane without a set point in my mind for when this will be over, a certain time that I can break down into small pieces to try and make my brain think it’s shorter than it really is.

I think I just need to try and take my mind off of this.

 **The Stage** —Several other Hetaloids, including Francis, Ludwig, and Feliciano (who is desperately clutching onto the aforementioned German) have joined Alfred. Arthur is gone.  
**West Hall** —The carnage of Oliver’s destruction is starting to spread across the hallway.  
**East Hall** —Clear  
**Closet** —These Hetaloids seem… antsy to say the least. They’re gonna have a lot of work to do after this mess.

 **Party Room** —The Party Room is empty  
**The Bar** —Everyone’s in place  
**Backstage** —Arthur is sitting backstage along with the rest of the G-8, though most of them appear to be shut down. He’s clutching his head and muttering angrily.  
**Doppelgänger Hangar** —I feel like I can see other figures back there. … they better not come out.

I look up from the screen, my mind reeling at the thoughts flowing through my head. If someone else comes out of the Hangar, there’ll either be someone else to help Oliver break down the door or someone coming down the East Hallway, and both cases sound terrible. Either the door will break down before my shift is over or the power will run out, and either way, I’m as good as dead.

I never thought I’d have to be fearing for my life in my early twenties unless some urge possessed me to join the army (which it never did). But I didn’t even sign up for this! At least when you’re a soldier you know you could be shot at, but no one told me about the fucking killer robots!

The door lets out a painful, high-pitched screech that makes me cower, forcing me to drop my tablet. Oliver has pulled a huge, thin gash in the door with his knife, and he’s clearly making progress towards getting inside.

Scrambling for my tablet again, I quickly check the time.

**Twenty-Nine Percent Power  
Five Thirteen A.M.**

I’m almost surprised how much time has already passed as I’ve dwelled deep in my terrified thoughts, but at the same time, I know how much time I have left. Gods, I’m running out of time! Oliver’s going to be able to get in here soon if not at any moment, and I still have forty-five minutes left! How am I supposed to survive this?!

Oliver’s fight against the door becomes louder as he begins to really ham on it, likely sensing how close he is to breaking into the office. I send a panicked glance around the room, hoping that maybe I missed a potential weapon I could use to protect myself earlier, but I legitimately only have my tablet, the old phone, my office chair, and the small metal fan. None of those would _really_ help me against a knife, and certainly not for very long.

It might be a lost cause by now, but all I can think of to combat Oliver is talking to him, and I have no idea if that’ll work again. It didn’t even seem to work last time since he kept returning to the subject of coming into my office until I nearly caved. If he’s actually _in_ my office with a godforsaken _knife_ who knows if he’s even going to listen to me!

Suddenly, I distinctly hear the sound of the door sliding open, quickly drawing my attention. Oliver stands on the other side of the open door, breathing heavily as he stares down at me with that creepy, entranced grin of his.

It seems like we had both forgotten that he could just reach for the button if he wanted to, until now anyway.

“Oh, poppet~ Look at that! Took me near close to an hour, but I removed the door keeping me away from you!” Oliver announces, his eyes swirling colourfully. My eyes widen as I stare back at him, but as much as my instincts scream at me to rise to my feet and run, to fight back, to do _something_ I feel quite literally frozen in place.

Oliver smirks down at me. “Not so confident without your artificial bodyguard, are you darling~?” he cackles, and I gulp nervously.

“Why’re you obsessed with getting to me anyway?!” I blurt suddenly, and Oliver pauses in befuddlement.

“What… do you mean?” he asks, his voice crackling like it’s coming through an old speaker.

“Why all this effort for someone like me?!” I shout, staggering to my feet as this newfound strength sweeps through me. “What use am I to you? Or do you just want to kill me, and if so, why? What do you even get for killing me?!”

Oliver doesn’t seem to know what to say, staring at me with a perplexed expression. “Still trying to talk your way out of this, poppet?” he asks, but he doesn’t move into the room. Not yet.

I glare at him. “No!” I snap indignantly. “I mean, maybe, but that’s not why I’m asking you these things. I want to know why I have to die!”

“Well you don’t _have_ to die, dear. But the general consensus says it’s better than the other option.”

Despite my repulsion to the thought, I dwell on that idea. “Yeah, but would you or the others even want that? I mean, hell, look at me,” I say, coming closer to Oliver despite the threat of the butcher knife in his hands. “I’m an absolute mess, it’s clear I don’t sleep much or take care of myself very well. Who would want a piece of… _this_ ,” I sneer, gesturing to myself.

Oliver raises an eyebrow. “Death is the easier alternate option then, poppet. It’s really not complicated,” he comments, but still, he doesn’t try to advance on or attack me.

“Oh, but it is!” I say, being careful to not show how nervous I am standing this close to Oliver. “ _Why_ kill a nobody like me? What would that even do for you? Why don’t you ever answer any of my questions when I’ve been entirely truthful with you?!”

The Hetaloid pauses again, and I use his moments of thinking as precious moments of time to generate some sort of plan. I know I won’t be able to keep him occupied forever, and I don’t really feel like I’ll hold his interest for much longer at all, so I have to come up with something. I really don’t want to die, not on my first night on the job. Not as I’m realizing that there’s something deeper going on here, that my conspiracy-loving ass is just itching to dig into. I have to survive because I have to be able to come back.

My eye catches a small red button near the door, and a spark goes off in my mind as I remember what the man on the phone told me about that button. As soon as I get a chance, or if it gets to the point where my life is in danger… I’m getting to that button no matter what.

“You’re not a _nobody_ , poppet,” Oliver sighs lowly. “You’re working for the man who imprisoned us, and that’s unforgivable, even by me….”

 _The man who imprisoned them?_ “Wha- but how could _I_ know about that?! I didn’t come here expecting to be mauled by killer robots!” I point out, staying consciously aware of Oliver’s tightening grip on his knife. The seconds are counting down, and I’ll have to be ready when the time comes, even though I feel completely unprepared.

Oliver’s eyes darken. “Why are you so mean, poppet? You’re only making this easier for me, you know?”

I squint at him. “Are you or aren’t you holding a knife right now, intending to stab me with it at one point or another?” He doesn’t respond, pouting at me. “Exactly. You’re a killer robot.”

He screws up his face with anger, and it’s the first true anger I’ve seen on his face yet. “I’ll show you a killer robot…,” he mutters darkly, and immediately my body tenses with fear. That’s my cue to get ready to _move it._

Oliver lets out a yell, leaping at me with his knife outstretched, but I’m already sprinting towards the little red button by the door. I twist away from Oliver as he changes directions, wincing as his knife just barely cuts through my skin and draws a painful red line up my entire lower arm, but I don’t let that stop me. My hand closes in on the button and Oliver seems to realize what I’m doing, attempting to jump backwards just as I slam my fist down.

Immediately, I hear the sound of a clean slice, followed by the crash of something metal hitting the floor. Oliver lets out a scream of bloody murder and I turn to look, surprised when I see that not only does the open door seem to have been replaced by a second door, but Oliver’s entire left arm is lying on the ground inside my office. His hand still grips the knife with an intensity, but the black liquid spewing out from the severed end makes it clear what just happened.

I cut off Oliver’s arm with that door. But how? I didn’t think the doors were that strong. As I look closer, however, I realize that this door is a lot sharper than any door I’ve ever seen, and that’s because it’s not a door at all. It’s a guillotine.

Astonished thoughts flood through my mind as I stare down at Oliver’s severed, twitching arm, feeling slightly sick to my stomach even though he’s quite literally a robot. I can hear Oliver on the other side of the guillotine, crying out in utter pain, and all I can think about is how weird it is that he seems to be experiencing the intense pain that would come with getting one’s arm cut off.

The guillotine slowly lifts up from between us.

I watch as the guillotine resets itself and stare at Oliver on the other side. I don’t know him well enough to know what to expect from him—while a logical person, fearing the huge amount of blood loss they’d be experiencing right now, would flee, I don’t know if Hetaloids have to worry about that! I mean, he appears to be bleeding in some fashion, though the black liquid smells a whole lot more like oil than blood, but for all I know, a wound like this could just piss him off and cause him to attack me with even more fury!

Thankfully, Oliver lets out a final shriek and races down the halls without his left arm, spilling his the oil all across the halls as he runs, and I realize at that moment that he was designed to be left-handed. How interesting.

I can’t help but to follow Oliver, quickly pacing down the West Hall in a not-so-subtle attempt to keep up with him. The Hetaloids on stage look surprised, almost shocked, to see Oliver running through the hall with blood spewing from a huge wound, and as Oliver runs to the Hangar, letting out the most pitiful cry, Arthur pops his head out from behind the curtains. His eyes are wide with awe.

Oliver crashes through the curtains of the Hangar, making a mess of his blood on them as they flap closed behind him, and just like that, he’s gone.

**Sixteen Percent Power  
Five Forty-Nine A.M.**

Letting out an overjoyed sigh of relief, I fall back against the wall of the hallway, sliding down to sit on the floor. I can finally say that I survived. I… I _actually_ survived that! A killer robot with a knife literally tore down a metal door in order to reach me, and I survived by outsmarting him! I can’t believe I’m still alive, to be honest.

“Dude, did _you_ do that to him?” a voice pipes up from across the party room, and I look up to notice that all of the Hetaloids onstage are now staring at me. The few who were backstage have even stepped out a little and are watching me as well.

I clear my throat awkwardly, my face flushing as I become embarrassed by the attention. “I-I mean, kind of? It was the only thing I had left, and I don’t even really know what I did,” I admit.

“Wow, you’re amazing! You’re like, our most badass nightguard yet!” Feliciano pipes up, still holding onto Ludwig’s arm quite tightly, but he looks so much happier now then he did earlier. They were all worried for me, though for some reason they felt like they couldn’t do anything, it seems. That’s another thing that I intend to figure out by coming here again—why aren’t the G8 fighting back?

“Really? What about the guy on the phone?” I ask, thinking of the messages he left for me. He had to be extremely witty and capable to have survived long enough to leave… at least semi-competent advice for the next victim of this godforsaken place.

Immediately, the mood of the room drops, the Hetaloids on stage becoming silent.

“Ah, well…,” Arthur starts up awkwardly, seeming a little flustered from the time he spent ruminating backstage. “Your shift isn’t over yet, but I highly doubt Oliver will come back out… so we should begin cleaning up,” he says instead, swiftly changing the topic, and even though I’m curious, I let it go. That man, whoever he was, is obviously a touchy subject for them, so I feel like pushing it would just be harsh.

The G8 exit the stage and immediately the pizzeria begins to come back to life, the maintenance and bar Hetaloids stirring as well. They seem to get cleaning supplies from seemingly nowhere, hurrying to clean up the mess that Oliver left behind. I suppose this place does open in a couple of hours….

“You’re bleeding,” a soft voice says from my right. I turn to see Kiku, who’s staring at my arm.

I look down and my stomach spins a little at the sight of the blood. “Oh, ah… it’s just a shallow wound, so I should be fine until-”

“At least let us clean it and bandage it,” Kiku interrupts assertively, showing me the wet rag he brought with him. Either he noticed my cut a few minutes ago, or they just have this sort of stuff ready for the nightguard if we get injured. “It’s the least we can do to repay you.”

“Repay me? What for?” I ask as Kiku begins to gently rub away the blood dripping down my arm.

“Surviving,” another soft voice comments from nearby, and I turn my head to see Matthew, one of the maintenance Hetaloids.

“Oh, well…. Thank you,” I say, at a loss for words. Why is it a favour to them that I lived? It’s not like my death will necessarily affect them, especially since I’ve only been an employee for one day. But maybe… maybe they’d feel bad if I died. These robots might be more humanoid then I first thought.

**~ _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG~**

The ringing of the bell brings me an unexpected burst of joy, signaling that my shift is finally over. I had stayed around to help the Hetaloids clean up a little, given that the mess was, for the most part, my fault, and I even tidied up the office a little bit. It makes sense why they put so much effort into cleaning this place up though—if parents came here with their children and saw a mess that appears as a murder scene, they would not be happy one bit.

I suppose, by being the nightguard, I protect all the customers too. If there was no nightguard… I’d imagine the 2ps would get antsy for blood at some point or another, and I don’t want to imagine what would happen then.

“You should leave now,” Ludwig tells me as he paces by, pulling Feli along with him.

I sigh, biting my lip a little as I turn towards the door. I should. I need to get a good night’s sleep, and then I need to prepare for worse than Oliver. That’s… not going to be very easy with the limited budget and time I have.

“Will you come back?” Alfred asks, staring after me.

“Yeah, of course,” I say, and a couple of the Hetaloids gawk at me. I suppose saying ‘of course’ wasn’t what they had expected at all. “Okay, look. If I leave, then this place will need to find a replacement nightguard, and if Oliver was that bad and they’re supposed to get _worse_ , that guy’s not going to know what to do at all! Plus, I know there’s something deeper going on here… and I have to admit that I’m curious,” I tell them.

“That’s suicidal…,” Kiku murmurs, and I sigh again.

“I know, probably. But that doesn’t mean I can stop,” I point out. “Maybe… if I somehow get to the bottom of this… I can make sure no one has to go through this ever again.”

“Well, you’re certainly selfless, and that’s commendable, but… oh, do be careful,” Arthur groans.

“Oui, and good luck preparing, mon ami,” Francis pipes up.

I pause. “How did you-”

Francis only laughs. “No nightguard ever comes to the second night without a plan and some gear. You know that you’ll need some just as well as the others did, I’m sure. Especially if you plan to get to the ‘bottom’ of this.”

I nod to myself. “Yeah, okay, you’re right,” I mumble, heading to the door. “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I just changed some grammar stuff, mostly


	2. Night Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's night two, and to be completely honest, you're not sure why you returned to this awful place. You thought you'd be coming prepared, with the combination of what you learned last night and the stuff you brought to help defend yourself, but of course things don't go so smoothly. Good luck.
> 
> (Also, I feel I should mention that the MC happens to be asexual. That's a personal preference since I am as well)

**Ten Fifty-Six P.M. — Before Shift**

I didn’t sleep very well today, with all the memories of last night rushing behind my eyes every time I closed them. Additionally, I couldn’t turn onto my left side because of the wound Oliver left on my arm, reminding me again and again that I could’ve actually been stabbed to death last night. Eventually, I did pass out from pure exhaustion, my body unused to the strenuous job of being a nightguard while also fearing for my life, but that only lasted for close to six hours.

The sun was only beginning to set when I woke up again, drenched in sweat from the nightmare I had been having. I didn’t see any reason to sleep for much longer, as the hours till work were drawing near.

That’s when I started to prepare. I don’t have a whole lot of things to defend myself with in here, but I do have an old baseball bat that… well, I don’t even know why I brought it with me when I moved here. I bring some old leather gloves as well, just in case I need to punch something, though I don’t really know what punching one of those robots would do much other than hurt my hands.

Though… Oliver did seem to be experiencing pain after I cut his arm off, so maybe it would hurt them. I don’t know, I at least have to try.

The hardest thing to cram into my bag is the baseball bat, as I didn’t really want to stroll into the Pizzeria openly wielding a baseball bat. That wouldn’t exactly sit well with the managers, customers, or other employees, I’m sure.

And now, here I am, standing in front of Hetaloid Idol Pizzeria. I already feel a sensation of dread crawling up out of my stomach, but I force myself to keep up the facade of a tired, grumpy, night watch employee. I can’t imagine many other people know about the Hetaloids in the hangar, especially since no one thought to _warn me_ before I started working here. I mean, the guy on the phone technically did, but I don’t know who he is or if he even still works here! I haven’t run into him yet, anyway.

I arrived here early with the hope that I’d be able to set some things up, but looking at the number of people that are still rushing around, I might have to wait around for a bit.

Letting out a deep sigh, I turn to sit at one of the tables, awkwardly stuffing my large backpack underneath. One of the maintenance Hetaloids arrives at my table promptly, tablet in hand to record my order. Since I’m here, I might as well order something to eat while I think.

“Welcome to Hetaloid Idol Pizzeria, would you like something to- oh…,” the Hetaloid starts off, cutting off when they look up and presumably recognizes me. I look up as well to see Matthew.

“Hey, Matthew,” I say, smiling softly.

Matthew shakes his head with disbelief. “I just can’t believe you came back. Oliver was more violent then he’s ever been… I’ve never seen the door messed up quite like… that.”

I shrug. “Well it’s not like I knew that! I’m prepared too, like Francis said… I brought some stuff that might help me out. I hope, I mean. I don’t really know,” I admit, shuffling my hands awkwardly. “I got here early hoping to prepare but… I guess I forgot how late this place is usually open, so… I’d like to get something to eat.”

“Alright, alright,” Matthew sighs, gaining his composure back. “Since you’re the night shift employee, it’s on the house, actually. So order whatever you want.”

 _Wow, they really give me a lot of benefits here for being a small chain restaurant. Though… maybe they do know how much shit they’re putting me through, then._ “Aha, I’d just like a cheese pizza, actually. And maybe water? Mostly I just need time to think right now,” I respond.

Matthew taps a couple of things on his tablet, nodding. “Alright! We’ll have that right out for you!” he chirps, returning to his peppy server attitude. I sigh as he walks away.

**Eleven Fifty-Four P.M.**

I stayed sitting at the table for a long while, deep in my thoughts even as the pizzeria closed and the rest of the employees left. The maintenance Hetaloids cleaned this place up much quicker than they had this morning, which I suppose is fair considering there isn’t oil spilled all over the place this time—just an assortment of crumbs, crumpled up napkins, and paper cups.

My head snaps up quite suddenly, seemingly for no reason, but then I realize I sort of feel like I’m being watched. Hesitant at first, I quickly glance around the room in confusion, only for my gaze to land on the Hangar.

It’s getting late, I should go to the office.

I stand from my booth and quickly head to the office, making a pitstop in the bathroom in fear that I may need to pee in the middle of my shift or, more embarrassingly, may accidentally piss myself in fear. As soon as I’m done, I head straight to the office.

The office is nearly completely repaired from the state it was in last night, and the door has been replaced. All that’s left of last night is a small pool of oil before the door, though Oliver’s arm is gone too. I’m glad they fixed the door, though I suppose I now know that Hetaloids can break these doors down a little too easily. Maybe I should’ve brought something to fix the doors… _shit_. I forgot to bring my bag of supplies with me! I’m such a goddamn idiot.

I let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through my hair. I don’t think I have enough time to head back out. I mean… maybe I do? Oliver didn’t come out right away so I would presumably have time to run out there real quick and grab it, but… the very thought of being out of my room after twelve scares me.

No, no, I need to get that baseball bat. It might be the only thing for me to rely on, and I’m not dying just because I’m… scared of the dark.

I quickly dash out into the party room, practically pouncing on the table and grabbing for my stuff. My hand closes on air and I feel my heart skip a beat. Where could my bag have gone? Did the maintenance Hetaloids move it while I was in the restroom? Gods, where would they have put it?

I scramble to the front desk, becoming desperate, but it’s not in the lost and found basket either.

My stomach squirms as I turn to look at the Hangar. I thought the 2ps couldn’t come out before twelve… but I suppose it would be stupid to assume that. Which means… they stole my bag? These assholes aren’t making this easy for me, but of course they’re not. They want to kill me for god’s sake!

But that means I have to head back to the office… defenseless. I… will survive. I have to, in order to figure everything out. In order to maybe save this place, or at least help it, I can’t let the 2ps win. I will survive round two.

**One Hundred Percent Power  
Twelve O'Clock A.M.**

I sigh at the chime of the bell signalling the start of my shift. I have absolutely got to head back to my office now—I’m not going to risk getting killed even if the 2ps didn’t steal my stuff. If I’m going to survive tonight, I need to be as careful and strategic as possible.

I dash back to the office, glad to see that the party room is empty of Hetaloids, granting me reliable access to my safe haven. As I run inside, however, my foot slips on something. I very nearly lose my balance as I slide into my office, passing straight through the other door before hitting the opposite wall and falling onto my butt. Despite the fact that no one could’ve witnessed that, a blush comes to my face.

That was embarrassing as hell!!

I quickly scramble to my feet, brushing off my pants as I carefully walk back inside. There’s now a slick black streak across the floor of the office, leading from… the oil slick! Damn, I didn’t know it’d be that slippery! Thank god I didn’t hurt myself, though, or tonight could’ve very well been the death of me.

Just as I’m settling down into the rolling office chair, the phone rings, and I’m quick to hit ‘answer.’

 _“Hello, hello! Uh, well… i-if you’re hearing this you, uh, made it to day two, s-so congrats! I-I won’t talk quite s-so long this time, since, uh, the 2ps tend to b-become more aggressive a-as the week go-goes on. Um, in fact… it might be a good idea to check those cameras while I speak, just to make sure everything stays in place… you know….”_ He has a point, but I’m not too worried about the 2ps coming out for… at least the first hour.

The man on the phone clears his throat awkwardly. _“Well, anyway. Um… hm, ah… well, interestingly enough, the G8 don’t leave their stage very often. I-if they do, however… then that most likely means that t-the, uh, the 2ps have become active and are in the party room…. S-speaking of the 2ps being… active… they tend to get a bit more active and… w-well, you know, in the dark. J-just another reason to not, uh, run out of power, I-I guess!”_

I huff. “Yeah, no kidding.” If the power went out, I’d be left defenseless in the dark.

 _“For safety reasons, it’s for the best if you don’t leave your office during your shift,”_ the phone guy continues. _“During the night, the Pizzeria is more of a, uh, n-nightmare come to life than, uh, a-a dream. Just… y-you know… don’t leave your room unless, uh, you absolutely need to. W-which hopefully it, uh, won’t come to that.”_

 _“O-oh, also… make sure you, uh, close those doors pretty quickly when the 2ps are at them…. They have a tendency to, ah, b-bash in the buttons with whatever they have if they, uh, get the chance… and that’s a lotta work for the Maintenance Hetaloids so… you know. Be careful with all that,”_ he says, chuckling nervously.

_“Anyway! If you’ve made it this far, then I'm sure you have everything under control! I’ll talk to you to, uh, tomorrow. I hope. Goodbye!”_

A dial tone rings out into my office as the recording stops and I let out a sigh. This guy needs to work on his pep-talking. If… if he’s alive.

**Sixty-Two Percent Power  
Three Thirty-Two A.M.**

I thought the fear of killer robots tearing me up inside would occupy my mind all night long, but now that it’s been three and a half hours, I think it’s safe to say that I’ve never been more bored or inattentive. The alternative isn’t exactly fun, though, so I should probably be thankful for it… but at the same time, boredom is so painfully uncomfortable that I would sort of rather die.

I’ve fallen back into that pattern of checking the cameras every five minutes or so, almost hoping for something to look different, but each time everything has stayed, for the most part, the same. I mean, sometimes the Hetaloids backstage shuffle around a little, looking up at my camera from time to time—now I’m certain they’re checking on me too—but they show little signs of approaching danger.

I know I should be glad that no one’s come out to play and possibly murder me yet, and maybe I scared away the others by cutting Oliver’s arm off (which was a little harsh, even if I did do it on accident.) However… that doesn’t quite make sense, since they presumably stole what little I had to defend myself with. That means they have to be planning _something_ , right?

Unless I’m all wrong and they didn’t steal my stuff, it just happens to be somewhere other than where I left it or the lost and found.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, I flip through the cameras once again.

 **The Stage** —Alfred’s out again

I feel my breath catch in my throat. _Shit, does that mean they’re out already?_ Although I was bored for the hours I've sat here doing close to nothing, it is earlier than when Oliver came out last night.

 **West Hall** —Clear  
**East Hall** —Nothing  
**Closet** —The Server Hetaloids are stirring, and one is even pacing. Matthew…?

 **Party Room** —There's no one there

Maybe… I caught them before they even left the hangar?

 **The Bar** —The Bar Hetaloids are all turned off  
**Backstage** —The rest of the G8 reside, all on and now looking anxious  
**Doppelgänger Hangar** —……….

Bile rises in my throat at the sight of the static-filled screen, waiting for it to clear and reveal the awful truth. A few moments pass before the fog-like static of the screen passes, and my heart jumps in my throat despite already knowing what I would see—the curtain to the hangar is open. More horrifying, however, is the fact that the curtains look like they’ve been torn open quite viciously.

The two Hetaloids are just leaving the screen’s field of vision, but I can clearly see that they’re much different in comparison to Oliver. Plus, they’re carrying rather dangerous weapons—a baseball bat full of nails and a hockey stick wrapped with barbed wire. At least they’re a bit more open about their viciousness than Oliver was, though this also likely means that they’re not going to waste any time on tricking me into cooperating with them.

Oliver did say they’d get worse.

I switch to the party room camera as they cross the threshold, not surprised to see that the two strike up conversation with Alfred. My hands move to switch to audio before I can reason against it and I listen in.

"Why're you so angry? Huh, Porkchop? Angry that I'm gonna fuck that little security bitch? Then do something about it!" I hear a Bostonian accent taunt to Alfred. _Oh brother._ These guys are definitely much worse, and judging from what Oliver told me, this could very well be Allen.

“Oh, come on!” Alfred complains. “At least drop the weapons. You know you don’t need those,” he points out, and I silently thank him for trying to give me at least some sort of an advantage.

“Make us,” the second Hetaloid snaps, and Alfred falls silent. Even though he’s a robot, he’s afraid. I can tell.

Allen chuckles out a bratty laugh. "That's right! You can't do shit, you pussy!" he cackles, and I switch the audio off. This guy is going to be a son of a bitch to deal with, that’s for sure, but I’m not going to let him win.

The 2ps seem to stand around for a few moments, taunting Alfred as he gets more and more desperate and defeated. I don’t exactly mind that they’re taking their time on heading towards me… but Alfred looks quite guilty, if that’s an emotion robots can functionally feel. They only seem to be scorning him, not even letting him counter anything they said. I’m already determined to knock these jerks off their high horse.

Suddenly, the second 2p hits Allen on the back of the head, motioning sharply towards the hallways to my office. I feel my throat seize up in fear, but I knew this was going to happen eventually, and I need to spend my time strategically rather than just dreading for my life like last time.

Allen smirks towards the camera for a moment and the 2ps start off towards the hallways, going separate directions. I’m going to be boxed in, and though I suspected it before, the fact that it’s happening now is pants-shittingly terrifying!

Regardless, I need to try my best to stay calm. My only weapon is speech, and it’s at least worth a shot. I won’t let myself die.

**Fifty-Nine Percent Power  
Three Fifty-Nine A.M.**

I watch carefully as the Hetaloids draw near on both sides of my office. There’s no way I’m going to survive the night if I keep both of the doors closed for the rest of two hours, so I need to conserve as much power as humanly possible and hope for the best. Allen’s a bit more eager to reach me than his slowly lumbering partner, so he’s advancing much more quickly.

Right before he can round the corner, I slam my hand down on the door button, and the metal sheet slides shut with a thunk.

Allen approaches a moment later, so quick in his step that he accidentally crashes into the door. “Aw, doll, that wasn't very nice!” He complains in a whiny voice, acting completely differently from how he did out there with Alfred. Of course, classic manipulation.

I don’t respond, halving my attention to make sure the other 2p won’t sneak up on me. He’s walking quite lazily, with that air about him that just screams he’s not worried about catching me—he already knows that it’ll happen. That seems to be the flaw within these two. While Oliver was a bit too friendly and talkative, albeit in a manipulative way, these two are over-confident. That just means I’ve got to prove them wrong, whatever it takes.

Allen gets annoyed at my silence. “Doll, I know you’re in there,” he growls, his voice much more threatening than Oliver’s, even when the Hetaloid got annoyed.

I roll my eyes, obliging in answering. “Well yeah, it’d be weird if I wasn’t,” I point out. The Hetaloid outside of the West door falls silent, and I assume he must be somewhat shocked that I responded so casually. Hopefully, I can keep this up.

I keep my attention on the East hallway camera the entire time, being careful that the unnamed 2p doesn’t get too close. Once again, before he can even round the corner, I shut the door, keeping my identity safe and tucked away. Completely because of what Allen said to Alfred… I don’t intend to let them see me. I don’t even want to know what they’d say or think at the sight of me if Oliver thought I, an absolute mess of a human being, was _cute_.

The other 2p taps on the door with his hockey stick. “Oi, they’re quick with the buttons,” he notes.

“You weren’t even walking quickly,” I say back, crossing my arms. I’m not exactly speeding around doing all of this, cause even though I _can_ be quick on my feet, I don’t need to be. Especially in this tiny, cramped office; there’s not a whole lot of space for me to run around anyway.

“Aaaaaand they talk back,” he grunts. “You’re weird, chickadee.”

“Am I?” I ask, a little curious. Do most of the night guards stay dead silent during all of this? They're obviously in their office, I don’t know what staying silent would achieve other than causing the Hetaloids to work faster in the ways of getting to and killing them.

“We haven’t had a night guard talk back in close to a year,” Allen tells me from behind his door. He chuckles. “Man, Ollie warned me you’d be feisty but this is more than I expected~”

I grimace. “Me asking you questions is… ‘feisty?’” I ask. _Just about as much as these animatronics are ‘quirky’._ “Surely there’s other people who want to know more about this fucking murder-house of a pizzeria before they die in it.”

The other 2p huffs out a sigh. “What he means is we knew you’d be interesting, or more accurately _difficult_. Most guards don’t have the balls to let out a peep,” he sneers, most of his annoyance directed towards Allen.

“I… don’t see what that would accomplish?” I point out.

Allen bangs his fist on the door, causing me to jump. “Exactly!! That’s what I’ve been saying, there’s no fuckin’ reason for the bastards to keep their greasy mouths shut!”

I grunt in agreement, thinking fast as to what I should say next. “So who even are you two? Just a little… get to know my killers, y’know?” I offer, hoping they’ll take the bait. Thank god I’ve become a pretty good conversationalist despite being awful at picking up context clues, because this would not go as well otherwise.

The two fall silent for a moment, and even though they’re on opposite sides of my office, I feel like they’re conversing as to whether they should humour me or not.

“I’m James,” the previously unnamed 2p grunts from the East door. “And something tells me Ollie already told you about the dickwad on your other side.” So that is Allen, as I had suspected. That means that these two are… the North American brothers? I can’t tell if they get along better or worse than Alfred and Mattie, though they’re definitely a lot meaner to each other.

“Uh, he might’ve? I don’t really remember if he did,” I admit, playing dumb. Of course I know Allen’s name, but the more they talk, the more time I have to spare.

“Ah c’mon Doll~ Surely he must’ve _mentioned_ me! Am I that forgettable?” Allen asks sapily.

I roll my eyes. “First of all, I was sort of unexpectedly fearing for my life so I wasn’t exactly paying attention to everything he said to me, and second of all; shitty memory. I forget things all the time,” I explain, trying to not show too much emotion in my voice. If they know they’re annoying me, who knows what would happen? “Like, I mean, I forget names all the time. I forget where I’m walking sometimes, in the middle of a walk. I… forgot where I put my bag once I got in here…,” I mention. Maybe they’ll admit to stealing my bag, or at least they might know something about it. Anything to get them to talk more.

Allen snickers, though I’m not glad to hear it. “We always love to receive gifts, Doll~” he purrs.

 _It wasn’t for you,_ I snarl internally. “Um… okay?” I say instead, pretending to be oblivious to what he means. “But really, what is your name? I really do want to know.”

“A guard who wants to know her killer’s name…,” Allen sneers. “What a wonder Oliver didn’t kill you.”

I chuckle nervously. “He hesitated,” I explain. No way am I telling them that he talked too much, as they might stop talking to me and start trying to kill me instead. I don’t really intend to let that happen.

“Alright, well, Doll. The name’s Allen. Try not to forget it this time,” he chuckles, though there’s a definitive threatening undertone in his voice. “With any luck, I’ll have you screaming it soon~” he murmurs, though not softer than I can hear.

I get the impulse to ask if he has a metal dick and then quickly decide against it. I do _not_ want to know.

“So uh…,” I start up, acting oblivious instead. “What are you guys here for? Olli… Oliver didn’t exactly want anything other than to kill me, but he also never really told me _why_ he wanted that. And really I just sort of want to know why you all seem to think I have to die?” I question.

“Oh, well, _I_ don’t want to kill you, Doll~” Allen argues.

James growls from the other door. “Yeah you do, you fuckhead. You know you do—they all end up dead anyway!” Well that’s comforting.

“Whatever!” I snap, quickly quieting my voice. “Who cares. Whether you want to hurt me or like… do what you will with me or kill me… whatever it is that you want to do… can I at least know why? I feel like I’ll end up as some sorta poltergeist haunting the fuck outta this place if I die without knowing why,” I explain, and James actually chuckles.

“It’s a little hard to explain out here, Chickadee,” he grunts. “In the Hangar, things would make more sense, but I doubt you’d willingly follow us so… how do I say this?”

“We were made for it?” Allen suggests in a mocking voice.

“Fuck you, Al! No, we weren’t!” James retorts. “It’s some sorta fuckin bug, I think, that made us all a little different than those traditional, happy-pappy idiots on stage. We have human needs, and being tucked away in a fucking _hangar_ all day long makes you wanna tear things apart with your bare hands.”

“Or fuck ‘em,” Allen adds on.

“Male night guards too?” I find myself asking. I guess it wouldn’t be impossible for that to happen… but do these robots have gender preferences?

Allen huffs out a sigh. “Doll, we’re robots, not people. We don’t have any high fuckin’ standards. Hell, sometimes I feel like I’d fuck anything that moves if we’re bein’ honest here. I’m not gonna get any diseases for hell or shit!” He has a point, though I’m absolutely disgusted that I just had to hear him say that. He’s not even trying to hide the fact that he wants to rape me, and while I can at least commend his honesty in comparison to Oliver’s manipulative attitude, I by all means still want to uppercut him into the sun.

“You know, fair enough,” I respond with a heavy exhale. “I can’t relate, at all, but I can understand how a creature with a… sex drive… _somehow_ … would get irritated being pent up all the time.”

“W-way, way, wait! You’re tellin’ me you don’t have a sex drive, Doll?” Allen asks, actual concern shining through his flirty voice. _That’s_ the thing he’s most concerned about? I mean, not that I’m that surprised but also, damn dude, where the fuck did your morals go??

“I um…,” I start out awkwardly. I didn’t mean to actually tell them that…. “Well yeah, I guess, for lack of a better descriptor.”

“Oh you sad, sad thing~” Allen bemoans.

“Allen, shut the fuck up, you asshead,” James snaps. “Since when have you cared about some shit like that?”

“Since when have the nightguards held fucking conversations with us, fucknut?” Allen snarls back. “Maybe things are actually goddamn changing around here, you know? Much as I’d love to fuck your pretty face off, Doll, I almost hope we can’t get to you by night’s end,” he jokes, but there is a level of sincerity in his voice. Allen’s… on my side? That, I did not expect.

“Any luck you won’t even try?” I ask, semi-hopefully.

James spits out a harsh laugh. “Nah, sorry Chickadee. You’re still our objective of tonight.”

“The main course, if you will!” Allen taunts, cackling. “Maybe even the dessert~!”

I glance at the time before I make my next move, judging the probability of my survival. If I’m going to be snarky, I have to be _sure_ I’m going to survive, because I’m one annoying son of a bitch.

 **Thirty-Eight Percent Power**  
**Four Forty-Two A.M.**

Well, considering it took Oliver close to an hour to get my door down and it would’ve taken him longer if he didn’t tear it to pieces with a knife, I think it’s safe to say that I’ve got _plenty_ of time. “If desserts commonly knock out your teeth, then by all means—come at me,” I taunt, flashing a devious grin even though neither of the 2ps can see my face.

Allen laughs, impressed. “Oh, ho! Told ya she was feisty, dickhead!” he yells to James. “But by all means, get ready for hell, princess~” _Oh shit._

I didn't expect it to sound like hell was raining down on the doors to my office. A cacophony of bangs, crashes, and other terrible sounds echo through my office, magnifying in the small space and making my head ache nearly instantly.

It’s hard not to just give up and collapse right then and there, hope that nothing goes wrong while I wait for six o’clock to roll by, but I know it’s not that easy. Allen and James already sound far more vicious than Oliver did launching their attack on their doors, and judging from what I could see from the staticky, low-res versions of them, they’re more physically capable than the little British nymph was.

Judging by the sight of those weapons they were carrying with them, I bet that’s what they’re hitting the doors with two. Of course a baseball bat would be more capable of breaking down a door than a hockey stick, but both of these doors are at least three inches of solid metal. Though… that didn’t stop Oliver from stabbing what looked like an ordinary kitchen knife through the door so… I doubt these weapons are ineffective as they’d be in normal situations.

Maybe I should’ve requested they not slam both of the doors in, cause this is literally just sensory hell right now.

To my dismay, the doors are already beginning to bulge and groan, the damage on Allen’s door looking far worse than James’. My mind is racing as I try to think of what to do, now coming to the realization that I didn’t have as much time as I had hoped for. Yet another mistake of not really giving myself enough time…. That just means I either have to distract them again once one of them gets in here, or I have to somehow get them to mess up… though by what means I have no idea.

I don’t have any weapons, and the clear proof that the 2ps stole my backpack really isn’t helping that fact right now. It still stands that talking to them is my only weapon, though of course there’s no way they’ll be able to hear me over the clamour they’re causing.

Plus, now that Oliver’s already experienced it, I doubt they’ll stop to talk to me once they get inside. They’ll be too ready for some sort of distraction like that, and despite the fact that Allen seems to be at least partly on my side, I doubt that he’ll hesitate in pouncing on me. So, I need to trip him up. Make sure he doesn’t even get a chance to take me, touch me, or grab me. I need a way to make sure that when he bursts in here, I can avoid and get rid of him in one swift motion.

This is assuming that Allen will be the first 2p to get into my room, as James is still making considerably less progress. I have no idea what to do if the Canadian 2p gets in here, as he’s revealed a lot less of his nature to me. Hopefully, I won’t have to worry about that.

 **Twenty-Three Percent Power**  
**Five Twenty-Four A.M.**

My heart pounds in my chest as I wait tensely in my office, fearing that at any moment, Allen will break that door down. He’s beginning to get close, the metal seeming to bend and warp under each hit, and it certainly seems like he knows what he’s doing. Neither of them sound like they’re growing tired either, continuing the onslaught without pause for breath. They’ve been doing it for years, I guess, so that would make sense. And he’s gonna take out that door soon.

I abstain from scrolling through the cameras, knowing they really have nothing new to offer me now. My eyes skitter around the office as my mind races, trying to think of at least _something_ that might help but I keep drawing up blanks.

I already recognized that there was nothing helpful here last night! There’s just the stupid old phone, my rolling chair, my tablet, and that little electronic fan that’s not even on! They wouldn’t have been able to protect me from a kitchen knife, and they certainly won’t be able to protect me from a nail-infested baseball bat in the hands of someone who looks like they know how to hit a bloody homerun!

Now that I think about it, my own baseball bat probably wouldn’t have helped me much either, since I have no doubt that Allen’s not only stronger than me but also has a longer arm range. I wouldn’t be able to even get close enough to hit him, and it’d be even worse against James with his hockey stick!

The sickeningly familiar sound of metal tearing rips me out of my thoughts with a violent gusto, and my head spins at the memory of Oliver tearing the door apart with a ravenous fury. The memories are almost worse than the present, and I really can’t decide whether it would be worse to be stabbed to death or practically bludgeoned and torn to death by someone who might fuck my dead, mangled body. Nah, the latter is definitely worse.

I blink back tears and shake my head to try and clear my thoughts. I need to concentrate on the now if I’m going to survive, and it really is an ‘if’ in this case. I have no idea if I’ll make it this time.

Allen has torn a hole in his door and is working quickly to enlarge it, dropping his baseball bat to tear at the metal with both hands. At the very least I can now see his details more clearly—the rough skin of his darkly tanned hands, his dark brown jacket and black skinny pants. There’s not much else I can see of him, though this also means that he likely hasn’t seen me yet. But if I’m not careful… not only will he see me, but he’ll likely realize just as Oliver had that he can just push the door button and come inside.

The Hetaloid snickers maniacally as he rips the door to pieces, and I can only watch on in terror.

James doesn’t cease his barrage on the east door, even though he can surely hear that Allen’s made much more progress than him, meaning I’m still boxed in. I can’t even run away, though I’m not sure if that would be any sort of a good idea. I don’t know how fast these Hetaloids they are, and I can only assume the possibility that they could be incredibly fast since they’re clearly incredibly strong.

"Hey, Doll~" Allen purrs to me, pausing for a moment to get a look at me through the hole he’s created. His eyes are blood red, something I definitely did not expect to see. “Damn, Ollie said you were self-conscious, but I don’t see why!” he cackles, complimenting me and making me incredibly uncomfortable at the same time. It would just be a compliment if I didn’t know what he wants to do to me.

I stand from my chair and back up against the east wall, being careful to not lean against the door so as to not take the jarring impacts of James’ barrage against my back. “You’ve got a fucked up way of complimenting,” I remark, putting up a façade of confidence.

He chuckles darkly. “Hey, I know good eatin’ when I see it,” Allen smirks with a wink, and I try not to let my cheeks flush red even though they tend to do that all too often.

“That's even _more_ fucked up then the last thing you said,” I laugh nervously, preferring to not acknowledge how disgusted I am right now.

“I’m gonna get you, Doll~” he threatens, and I feel my stomach twist itself into a knot as he continues his assault on the poor West door. Of course, they’re still trying to literally murder me, so maybe I shouldn’t consider the possibility of beings friends with this monster right now.

 **Fourteen Percent Power**  
**Five Forty-Six A.M.**

Just the sight of the power and time I have left forces a wake of nausea over me. Fourteen more minutes? Fourteen more minutes?! I may not even be alive in fourteen more minutes, in all honesty! But that doesn’t mean I can give up; Allen may be close to getting inside, growing nearer every moment, but there has to be something I can use that’ll trip him up.

Suddenly, something in my memory ticks. The oil slick!

I don’t know if it’ll be quite as slippery as it was when I first walked through it, but if Allen charges in here in a blundering mess like I did, he’s bound to slip on it too! Plus, the slick sent me all the way out into the East hallway, which means if I can plan this well enough, I bet I could get Allen to run directly into his brother before either of them can realize what’s going on.

That’s my game plan, then. It’s all I have left.

A chill runs up my spine as I hear a thunderous crash, the noise of the West door falling down onto the floor behind me, and I freeze. Dammit, I didn’t get as much time to plan as I would’ve liked! And I only have one shot, meaning I have to do this perfectly now.

Gods, I hope I don’t die.

“Oh Dollface~” Allen coos, drawing my attention to him. His ruby red eyes sparkle maliciously as he grins at me, and I’m unable to contain the terror welling up inside of me. “You’re so close to winning, this is almost sad,” he sighs, a nod towards the tablet I left on my desk.

“T-this isn’t the end,” I respond, though I may just be reassuring myself by saying that.

Allen only snickers wickedly. “You’d like to believe that, huh Doll? I sorta would too but, uh, how do I say it…? Abstinence is a bit of a bitch that I don’t like to sustain.”

I back up against the East door, my entire body shaking with each hit James delivers to the poor thing, and stare Allen down with a furious expression on my face. “Come and get me, then,” I taunt, out of breath with terror. “I’ve got nowhere to run. Come. And. Get. Me.”

Allen smirks. “Oh don’t worry, Doll, I’ll snatch you right up. You just gotta give me some _sugar_ ~” he sneers, and then suddenly he’s charging at me.

Everything happens before my eyes as if it’s in slow motion. I watch as Allen’s foot slips on the oil slick, his face lighting up with surprise as he struggles to regain his balance. I watch myself spin away from my stance in front of the door, slamming my palm on the button harder than I ever have in my life. James’ eyes widen at the sight before him, his own brother rushing towards him faster than either of them can stop.

I turn back to Allen just in time to see him whisk by, an expression of absolute rage on his face. He lunges for me and I step back only just in time, the very tips of his fingers touching gingerly against my cheek. My eyes meet his and time seems to stop, pausing on that moment with his fingers just barely touching me and my hand glued to the door button like a clamp.

Everything goes back into motion at once, Allen’s hand slipping away and completely missing the collar of my shirt that he had grabbed for. James lets out an angry shout as they smash into each other, clattering to the floor in a mess of limbs.

Without a second to lose, I quickly slam my hand back onto the button, shutting the 2ps out into the East Hall.

“MotherFUCKER!” I hear Allen scream from the other side of the door.

“Allen, you fucking dumbass! Look what you did!” James yells back, just as angry. Even if he acted like he didn’t care about getting to me, he obviously does care that I foiled their plan.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know it was a fuckin’ slip n’ slide in there!? I didn’t _want_ to let them off easy!” Allen retorts.

“You nearly fucking had them, you fuckhead! All you fucking had to do was grab them, and you even screwed that up!!” James screams, and as I lounge back into the office chair, I feel my racing heartbeat calm down. They seem much more occupied with blaming each other than getting back to me, thankfully, cause I doubt Allen would fall for the same trick twice.

Allen lets out a roar. “I’m gonna beat your fuckin’ ass, you-” he starts, but a subsequent crash of metal tells me that James hit him first

Scuffling and screaming sounds from outside my door as the two brothers angrily fight it out, definitely more violent than Alfred and Matthew have ever been to each other. Despite the fact that they’re fighting each other, and might as well be for the rest of the night, this very well could’ve been what they did to me. I mean, I have no idea—they could’ve beat me before anything else.

I should really just focus on the fact that I likely survived again. I just have to wait for the damn bell….

**~ _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG~ **

Right on cue, the chorus of angels signal my release from this hell. I feel a humongous wave of relief wash over me and very nearly collapse out of my chair.

"FUCK!" James yells, pausing in the fight at the glorious sound.

"SON OF A BITCH!!!" Allen screams in frustration.

I open the East door as the two brothers pick themselves up, grumbling at each other but certainly not about to fight again. Allen glares at me when he sees the grin on his face.

“You know, as much as I fuckin’ hate that you duped me like that… you did good, uh…,” Allen starts, trailing off where he would normally say ‘Doll,’ and I realize he’s effectively asking for my name.

“(Y/n),” I tell him happily.

“Yeah, you did good, (Y/n),” James joins in. “You beat us without any gear, so colour us impressed.”

“Good luck with tomorrow, (Y/n),” Allen purrs, a heavy undertone to his voice, and just like that the two Hetaloids disappear down the East hall, leaving me to watch after them. I stay standing in the doorway for a moment, considering Allen’s words as the rest of the pizzeria wakes back up.

Was that a legitimate wish of good luck, or, as the undertones suggested, a warning? I mean, I suppose it would be wrong to assume that Allen doesn’t know who’s coming after me next… but are they dangerous? Can anything even be more dangerous than Allen and James just were? I don’t really want to find out, but like I said last night, I can’t leave. I have to get to the bottom of this, or maybe die trying.

With a deep sigh, I head out into the Party room, glad to see that the Hetaloids have already come out to clean up. They really don’t have much to do since Allen and James weren’t literally spilling oil out everywhere, so, for the most part, they’re just gathered there, waiting for me.

“You survived!” Matthew’s soft voice cheers, and I’m surprised when the typically shy Hetaloid runs up and hugs me.

I feel tears prick the corner of my eyes, grinning widely. “Yeah! I did!”

“We’re proud of you, dear!” Antonio, one of the bar Hetaloids, shouts from the entrance to the bar, beaming brightly.

The other Hetaloids give their own thanks and congratulations before sending me on my way, and I leave the pizzeria feeling rather good (even though I lost my backpack). I survived another night, and by any luck, I’ll survive more.


	3. Night Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third night's finally here, and you have a rock in your stomach. Was Allen really trying to warn you about something last night? You can't tell, but it certainly did keep you from getting an adequate amount of sleep last night.
> 
> (Also my Italian is a little rusty [and no I didn't just use Google Translate] so bare with me)

**Eleven Fifteen P.M. — Before Shift**

I yawn as I walk into the Hetaloid Idol Pizzeria. I had yet another unsuccessful day of trying to sleep all day, the visions of the past two nights playing through my brain over and over again and delving deep into what could’ve gone wrong, only making me feel worse. There are so many things that could’ve happened to me, so many ways I could’ve ended up dead, and so many more ways that my life can still go wrong on my next night.

In total, I probably only got two or three hours of sleep, so I am absolutely exhausted.

There are not as many things in my bag this time, especially considering that I lost my only backpack here last time…. I didn’t bring many different things this time, though I don’t know if any of it will be any sort of helpful. Probably not.

All of the customers have left at this time since it’s past eleven PM, so it’s just me, the friendly Hetaloids, a few last employees making sure everything’s in place, and… the things in the Hangar. Gods, I wonder who’s going to come out this time. I haven’t been able to get Allen’s words out of my head all day either, and now I’m almost certain that he was warning me. I’m not sure about _what_ yet, but I have my guard up as much as an absolutely exhausted human being possibly can.

I’m quick to head straight for my office, not even bothering to strike up conversation with any of the Hetaloids or remaining day employees, and certainly not risking setting my bag down anywhere just in case it somehow ‘disappears’ again. Although the West hall still smells strongly of oil, the office is completely repaired once again, both doors in tiptop shape just as they were the first night I got here. The oil slick has been cleaned up as well, leaving no trace of the fiasco that happened here last night.

I sit down on the rolling chair and place my bag on the desk, taking out a soda to drink and a trinket to fiddle around with. With any luck, I’ll be able to stay awake enough that I won’t die, but now I might even be too tired to keep up a conversation. That… would certainly not be good, since it’s the only thing that has kept me alive for the past two nights.

My eyelids flutter closed and I force them open again, yawning heavily. I’m already this tired…. Here goes another struggle for survival.

 **One Hundred Percent Power**  
**Twelve O'Clock A.M.**

The chime of my shift starting makes my head spin. I’m already dreading what I’ll have to go through tonight, especially with Allen’s words still swimming through my mind. How am I even going to survive this?

The phone rings and my head snaps up in alarm. It takes me a moment to even register the absence of danger, and I still feel a little shaken as I press the answer button.

_"Hello, hello? H-hey, you're doing great! M-most people quit, or uh, you know, by now, so I’m proud of you for sticking around! Uh, anyway… I had, uh, better not take up too much o-of your, uh, time. Th-this is the night t-that things s-start to get… real."_

My eyes widen. By the sound of it, I was correct about tonight being more dangerous than usual.

_"Uh… h-hey, listen…. You m-may have, uh, noticed that the 2ps h-have uh, started coming out in, uh, p-pairs, right? Yeah, w-well… tonight it’ll be a, uh, a little different…. Y-you might remember fr-from, uh, history class… the group called the Axis Powers? In World War 2? W-well yeah, there’s a… group l-like that. So… three 2ps.”_

Oh god. Two were hard enough to fight against, but three? When I’m this stressed and sleep-deprived? That’s gonna be a fucking nightmare, if not the death of me.

 _“A-and I know, uh…,”_ the man’s voice drops to a whisper. _“I-I know I’m n-not actually s-supposed to help you… cause a-any proof t-th-that these Hetaloids h-hurt people is, uh, a legal problem, b-but….”_ His voice gets even quieter. _“Be c-ca-careful of, uh, of Luciano.”_

There’s that name again, the 2p that Oliver unhappily mentioned as perhaps the reason that the 2ps were put into the Hangar in the first place. Is he… more dangerous than Allen?

 _“H-he’s the fastest, s-so if you ha-happen to have to, uh, run… please be fast. The other two… w-well, I n-never, uh, learned their n-names… but one, uh, one’s r-really sneaky and h-hard to spot, a-and the other’s super, uh, strong,”_ he explains. _“I-I know what I, uh, said l-last time but uh, you’re probably, uh, gonna h-have to leave y-your office to, uh, tonight….”_

_“A-anyway! I’m gonna, uh, l-leave you to it, now. See you on t-the, uh, the flipside. I hope.”_

Again, the recording ends on an ominous note, the dial tone ringing through my office as I sit there looking stunned. I now have at least vague proof that Allen was warning me about Luciano, but that doesn’t do much for me other than terrify me—this 2p _must_ be even worse than Allen! Though, I am glad the man on the phone explained a bit about this ‘Axis’ group, because now I at least know what to look for… if I can even keep my eyes open for long enough.

And as far as I remember, the ‘Axis’ was the alliance between Germany, Japan, and Italy in World War Two, just as the phone guy said. It sounds like Luciano must be Feliciano’s 2p, so the other two must be Ludwig’s and Kiku’s. I wonder which one is which.

I slump back into my chair, letting out a deep sigh. There are at least 6 Hetaloids in the hangar, so maybe there’s eight total, like the G8? That wouldn’t quite make sense though, since Matthew isn’t part of the G8. It haunts me to think of how many Hetaloids could be back there, then, and really there’s no saying unless someone goes back there to check. I’m certainly never doing that, I can say that for sure!

Tiredness rolls over me and I quickly sit up again, trying to shake the sleep out of my eyes. I need to keep myself occupied so that I don’t fall asleep, but I know that’ll be difficult, especially with the monotonous activities that come before the 2ps attack.

Grumbling to myself, I pick up my tablet and get to work, checking all of the cameras at least once.

 **The Stage** —No one’s out here, not yet.  
**West Hall** —Nothing Out Of Ordinary  
**East Hall** —Barren As A Ghost Town  
**Closet** —The Hetaloids in here are all shut down, as usual.

I sluggishly flip to the next set.

 **Party Room** —Empty  
**The Bar** —Gilbert’s being an idiot… again.  
**Backstage** —The G8 Reside, keeping up their habit of turning on occasionally to check on me.  
**Doppelgänger Hangar** —Still locked down, as expected.

I yawn heavily, wiping tears out of my eyes. It already feels like I’m being physically torn apart, limb from limb, by my own exhausted boredom, and I almost can’t take it anymore. Gods, again I’m just wishing I had something to do while I wait for shit to go down, but every time I’ve thought of bringing something to occupy myself with, the thought that I might miss an approaching 2p forces me to push that idea out of my mind.

The rolling chair seems even more comfortable and warm than ever before, and it’s starting to become… _way_ too comfortable.

Maybe just a few minutes… or maybe a couple of hours…. I’ll be fine, right?

My eyes close, and within moments I’m fast asleep.

**Three Forty-Nine P.M.**

A scream tears through my peaceful sleep, forcing me awake before I can even register that there’s a hand on my shoulder and it’s my scream that I’m hearing. I open my eyes to find myself launching towards the door, fear coursing through my body. I don’t make it very far since someone’s holding onto me, but they do let me go, allowing me to turn onto my butt and cower beneath them. The light from the West hall’s so bright, I can’t even see who it is, but I can only assume that I must be in danger.

“Woah, dude, are you okay?!” A familiar voice asks me, and for once this familiarity is welcome. Alfred…? “It’s just me, I’m not gonna hurt you!”

“Oh, oh my god, I,” I sputter, gasping for breath, but the adrenaline coursing through my body barely lets me think straight. “O-oh thank god, I-, I was so afraid and I just… god, I’m so stupid, aren’t I, falling asleep on the job?” I ask, tears springing to my eyes as waves of relief roll over me.

“Well, yeah, you are,” Alfred admits with a shrug. “But it’s not completely your fault—this job is exhausting, so I’ve… heard. Plus, we have your back… unless a 2p’s already out.”

“Oh yeah,” I mutter, remembering how the G8 always seem to be turning on just to look up at the camera. They’ve been making sure I was still checking on them… and when they saw that I didn’t check for a long time, I suppose they must’ve known that something other than murder happened to me. “But… the man on the phone said you guys don’t come off of your stage much.”

It’s surprising to see actual pain glistening in Alfred’s robotic eyes. “Well uh, I mean, we’re not _supposed_ to leave the stage during the nighttime…. They don’t want us getting too attached to the nightguards since… uh, well… there’s been times that we’ve refused to perform after they’ve ‘quit,’” he explains, air-quoting. After they _died_ is clearly what he means. “But I hate going through this same routine again and again, you know? Performing for the kids, of course, I don’t mind—we were built for it, and we love it—but having to watch the nightguards get beaten into submission again and again… it drives me crazy!” Alfred exclaims.

“And I just… I wish there was something more we could do, you know dude?” I’ve never seen a robot look as passionately angry as Alfred does now. “You seem like a good person, and unlike most people, you’re actually trying to figure out what’s going on here. I almost wish you would just run away like mostly everyone else but… like you said, that’d just be another person put here to die,” he grumbles.

“I understand,” I say, as it’s the least I can offer to comfort Alfred, but my mind is elsewhere. These robots, the Hetaloids, must not only be capable of experiencing pain and, in the 2ps case, having libidos, they must also be able to experience emotion. They really are almost human, in that regard, and it seems like they hold their past connections dearly as one remembers a friend who has passed away. But that means their stark reaction to my mention of the man on the phone was for a serious reason.

“Alfred?” I need to know more about the phone guy.

He sighs deeply. “Yeah?”

“I-I… well, I know this is kinda a touchy subject for all of you but… was the man on the phone one of the reasons you refused to perform?” I ask, and Alfred freezes.

“That’s-,” he starts, his voice nearly angry, but he’s quick to cut himself off. “More or less, I suppose, yes. That man… he worked here nearly a year ago, staying here for several weeks despite the danger he was in. He was like you, he wanted to figure things out. But he, uh… he disappeared.”

 _Disappeared?_ “Did he… die here?” I ask, lowering my voice at the mention of death.

“No!" He barks. "Well, I mean… the truth is, we really don’t know. None of us do,” Alfred explains with a heavy voice. “Everyone else, we know what happened to them. They left for one reason or another, or they died. But Terence… he didn’t do either of those things. He was just gone without a trace before the end of his shift one Friday.”

“His name was… Terence?” From the sound of it, this might’ve been the nightguard that last held a conversation with Allen and James one year ago. “What… what was he like?”

“Oh,” Alfred starts, his eyes clouding over.

“O-oh, you don’t have too if you don’t want to!” I quickly exclaim. “I know how hard it is to think about people that are gone, missing or otherwise… so if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.”

“No… I think I need to by now,” Alfred sighs, looking towards the ground. “I’ve kept my mouth shut about it for so long—we’re really not supposed to talk about him anyway—but no nightguards have ever really cared about anything other than themselves. You… seem to care a lot about everything going on here, and whether that’s stupid of you or not is up to debate… but I appreciate it more than words can tell. I think you deserve to know about Terence.”

I’m a little taken aback by Alfred’s passionate argument, but I cede to him, allowing him to tell his story despite the obvious emotional strain it’s putting on him just to think about.

“Terence was brave, like you, and often tried to talk to the 2ps. But… you’ve probably already realized he had a speech impediment, and the 2ps often grew pretty tired of it, so he had to become crafty. He was clever—he was an engineer—and he easily outsmarted everyone, even Luciano. We were all impressed,” Alfred explains. “Terence really wanted to find out why all of this was happening, just like you do. In between closing and the start of his shift, he’d poke around a whole lot, even peering into the hangar with a flashlight. It was the craziest thing we’d ever seen.”

“And… and I guess… the 2ps just grew tired of it…,” Alfred says, his voice cracking a little. “Because one day he and all his amassed research… were just gone.”

I let my thoughts simmer as Alfred falls silent. So… the man on the phone… _Terence_ … worked here less than a year ago. That means he was the last person to hold a conversation with Allen…. But it also explains why Terence left the recordings in the first place. If he’d been working here for weeks then he would’ve known, at least relatively well, how to stay safe. But does that also mean… he knew something would happen to him? If he’d been working here for weeks or even months, wouldn’t he have had plenty of time to make the recordings?

I know I probably won’t ever get the answer to that.

Alfred sighs. “Alright, well, I should probably head back to the stage. The night is going to get dangerous soon, and I’m not allowed to be out here when they are…. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

I sigh as the Hetaloid leaves my office, trying to decide what to do now that he’s gone. I know I’m bound to fall asleep again if I don’t keep myself occupied, so I stand up, taking my tablet with me and turning it on.

_Oh SHIT._

**Five Percent Power**  
**Four Nineteen PM**

How did it go down so fast? Normally I still have a little less than half of my power left by this time, but now it’s already at five percent? How the hell am I going to survive tonight now?!

Maybe I left the tablet on when I fell asleep? But I just turned it on again, so that doesn’t make sense!

**Four Percent Power**

I’m going to end up dead now, aren’t I? Dead and useless, just like all of the other nightguards who have ever died here. I’ll die without having accomplished anything, with letting Alfred down by being just another statistic, without figuring out what the hell’s going on here or why any of it’s happening in the first place!

I’ll die for _nothing_.

**Three Percent Power**

I can see, on the screen, that the hangar’s open. I don’t know how long it’s been like that, but it can’t have been like that for very long. I wonder if they can sense that I’ve messed up.

They’re coming for me.

**Two Percent Power**

_Luciano’s_ coming for me.

**One Percent Power**

There’s someone else in my office.

**Zero Percent Power**

"Time’s up, bella~," a mocking voice crows from the West doorway, and right at that moment, the entire building shuts down, the familiar hum of the background systems falling eerily silent.

My throat seizes with fear, and all at once I don’t feel like I can breathe, move, or even exist. The tablet drops out of my hands as I slowly let myself look towards the owner of the voice, terror running through me at the sight of his glowing magenta eyes. I can barely see anything else about him, but just from his voice, it’s quite obvious that this is Luciano.

I failed Alfred. I failed Terence.

“M-maybe…,” I whisper, but Luciano just smirks at the sound of my terrified voice, approaching me with an air of confidence and condescendence.

I try to back away from him, but in no time I’m trapped between him and the East wall.

“Oh please, ragazza, who do you think I am?” Luciano purrs, leaning forwards to get in my face and making me squirm. “I know you’re not some damsel in distress—what you did to Oliver showed that much, but even you won’t be able to beat me. Especially not when you’re already out of power,” he taunts, dragging a finger past a curl of my hair and making me shudder. “Though, we do have a bit of time to spare… and I would love to know the name of the woman who cut Oliver’s arm clean off.”

“M… my name is, uh, (Y/N),” I stutter nervously. “And you heard about all that? I didn’t… really mean to do that to Oliver.”

Luciano laughs sharply, snatching me by the chin as I try to look away from him. “But of course I heard about you, ragazza. It’s hard to not hear about everything that goes on since I live with such loud-mouthed idiots,” he snarls, “but I suppose you interested me. You outsmarted Oliver and the North American brats so easily… and now that we have the time to spare, I want to see what you can do against me.”

My eyes widen slightly. He _wants_ me to fight back, to try to outsmart him? I could already tell that he was overconfident, maybe even more so than James was last night, but this is just ridiculous! Not that I necessarily think I _will_ or even _can_ beat him, especially not in this state of absolute exhaustion, but if he’s going to give me the chance, I’m going to do my damnedest to survive. I’m going to do the most I can to survive and just hope for the best.

Maybe I haven’t failed anyone yet.

“R-really?” I question, still not quite believing that I actually heard those words out of Luciano’s mouth.

His eyes glimmer with a hint of amusement. “Si, really, ragazza. I don’t lie,” he snickers, stepping back and releasing my chin. I’m hesitant to step away from him, still fearing that this is some sort of cruel trick meant to tear away any remaining hope I just gained back, but Luciano is seriously letting me go. “Run along now, will you? We don’t have all of the time in the world to play our little game of cat and mouse. And I want to have fun catching you, so try your best?”

I nod shakily, too afraid to refute or respond to him, and without a moment to lose I take off down the East hallway. It makes sense now, why both Allen and Terence warned me about Luciano, and even Oliver spoke about him. This must be one of the worst, if not the worst, in the bunch.

**Zero Percent Power**

My heart is practically leaping out of my chest as I dash into the party room, my eyes preening through the pitch blackness for some place, any place I may be able to hide. Luciano didn’t specify how much time I’d get to prepare myself, and additionally, I know he has teammates _somewhere_ , though wherever they are now they haven’t made a sound. As far as I know, it could just be a 1v1, me versus Luciano, but either way these guys aren’t going to be as easy to avoid. I don’t have a safe room to curl up in this time.

Acting on a split second decision, I dive under one of the tables, relieved to feel that the tablecloth nearly touches the floor, providing me semi-reliable cover. While this definitely isn’t an optimal hiding place, and it certainly won’t keep me safe forever, it might give me some time to think.

Moments later, I hear footsteps leisurely entering the room, deliberately made louder so I can hear the pursuing Hetaloid plain and clear. I’m so glad I decided to hide when I did, because he barely gave me any time at all! Any later and he would’ve seen me immediately, and then I really would’ve been dead. If anything, I can’t let that happen.

A faint magenta light illuminates the ground like a spotlight, and my throat catches in my throat. He’s searching for me, so close to my hiding spot already. Does he know where I am?

I cover my mouth, struggling to breathe steadily and silently as I wait in tense apprehension; I dare not even move as I wait, watch, and listen. It wouldn’t be fair if Luciano somehow already knows where I’m hiding, but at the same time I know I shouldn’t have expected anything else. This 2p wants to see if I can outsmart him with two hours left in my shift and he’s actually playing fair? Sounds fake.

“Ragazza, you’re not very good at hiding~” Luciano sneers mockingly, but I stay silent. If he doesn’t know where I am already, I’m certainly not falling for that trick.

He lets out an aggravated sigh at my silence, and I feel a little bit of comfort at the thought that he doesn’t actually know where I’m hiding. But… he does know I’m in this room, which means I probably won’t stay hidden for long. I suppose it mainly depends on how good Luciano is at finding people, then.

“Lutz, get the fuck over here!” He snaps, to my surprise. He’s calling for help?

And besides, who is Lutz? That doesn’t sound like a Japanese name, so I can only assume that Lutz must be 2p Germany. I’m sort of curious as to what he’s like, except for the fact that if I meet him he might just straight up kill me. That’s kind of how it is with… all of these 2ps actually.

The footsteps that approach this time are a lot heavier than Luciano’s, even when the 2p was intentionally throwing weight into his steps. I guess Lutz must still by a big guy.

Suddenly, I hear a deafening crash that makes me jump in my skin. Was that the sound of Lutz knocking over a table? It sounded like he flung the entire thing across the room…. If that’s the case, then I absolutely cannot be under my table when he gets to it. But I can’t run either, because they’ll probably see me; even if they don’t, that third 2p is still somewhere out there, so I’d be found anyway.

But if I stay I’ll be found for sure. I need to take the risk.

Turning onto my hands and knees, I crawl to the opposite edge of the tablecloth, peering out anxiously. The dark room is empty on this side, and I can faintly see the outline of the stage. Ludwig, Feliciano, and Kiku stand near the edge of the curtain, looking out anxiously, and I silently thank them for being somewhat concerned for me. If their 2ps are the most dangerous, then they probably feel the most guilt. I wouldn’t doubt that Luciano has killed more nightguards then Oliver, James, or Allen combined.

Spurred on by the thought that I need to survive for the sake of the Hetaloids in the G8 who have witnessed far too many deaths, I sprint out from under the tablecloth, keeping my body low.

Lutz lets out an angry shout as I flee, and I quickly realize that I definitely wasn’t stealthy enough. I turn back towards the two Hetaloids just in time to see a table literally flying at me, the party decorations flying off of it as I quickly dodge out of the way.

Luciano follows after me angrily, pulling knives out of his coat and throwing them at me in a wide arc. I scream, struggling to avoid the blades as I scramble back to my feet. Sharp pain flares through my arm as one of the blades glances past me, but otherwise I’m untouched, leaving me to continue my mad sprint for another hiding place.

Just as I look away from Luciano, I catch sight of a bright metallic flash, reflecting with the bright red light of yet another Hetaloid’s eyes. Horror rushes through my entire body as I react the only way I know how, practically collapsing like a rag doll and skidding on the ground from the momentum.

The sword—a Japanese katana—lodges itself in the wall above my head, reflecting my terrified expression right back at me.

I think I found Kiku’s 2p.

My knees burn as I stagger back to my feet, my mind racing as I try to figure out where to run. Luciano is approaching me slowly from the right, a murderous expression plastered on his face. 2p Japan stands in front of me with a second katana, his glowing red eyes full of serious malice.

I know I won’t be able to beat the 2p in a fight, but it’s better than running back to Luciano so… I just have to survive. I need to survive, for Alfred. For Terence.

To the Hetaloid’s surprise, I run straight towards him with more confidence in my step than he or I expected. He tries to attack me far too late and I slip by, nearly tripping over my feet as I slip past him. Before the 2p can regain his bearings again, I’m sprinting off, only knowing that I’m heading away from the 2ps. I really have no idea where to go.

Just my luck, I happen to be running straight to the bar. Surely there’ll be a place for me to hide in there!

“Kuro, you fucking idiot! They’re getting away!” Luciano screams in fury, and I get the feeling that he might regret giving me a second chance to survive the night. Too bad for him, I’m going to be holding onto this second chance until I absolutely cannot anymore.

I crash into the bar, horrified that this room’s even darker than the party room was. There aren’t any glowing eyes in here either, meaning that all of the bar Hetaloids are shut down already. I guess I won’t be getting help from them, though at the same time I don’t know if I would get help anyway. They’re probably just like the G8—not actually allowed to help the nightguard.

Wasting no time on trying to get the Hetaloids to help me, I quickly hop over the bar and duck down, opening the cabinets hurriedly. There’s got to be one that’s empty enough for me to squeeze myself into, even if it’s uncomfortable. If I can’t find a good hiding place, I’m going to die, plain and simple!

I close the cabinet door as I fit myself into the hard liquor cabinet, as, unsurprisingly, this cabinet has a lot more room in it than any of the other cabinets. I mean, they’re not really going to be serving a whole bunch of hard liquor here, at a kid’s pizzeria, anyway. They only serve enough for a determined adult to get buzzed, but never drunk. That would be… even more irresponsible than all of this whole ‘2ps are murdering the nightguards’ thing. Somehow.

Three pairs of footsteps enter the bar soon after I’ve crammed myself into the alcohol cabinet, making me shiver. They’re bound to find me in no time, and then I really am going to die. I know I’m not meant to survive this, but dammit it’s really disappointing that this is the reality!

“Make sure no one gets in my way,” Luciano snarls to his two partners before turning his attention back to me. "Bella~. I know you're in here." His voice sounds a bit strained now that it’s actually a struggle to keep up his flirty attitude among the frustration he’s experiencing. “You know I’ll find you, why not just give up already?”

 _Because fuck you, that’s why!_ I growl internally. If staying hidden for just a few minutes longer means I get to survive the night, then I’m spending all of those minutes as silently as possible. Either way, I’m not going to give up sooner rather than later! That’s literally the opposite of what I want.

The silence only causes Luciano’s anger to grow. “Bella, you should know that I don’t take you disobeying me kindly,” he says, his voice beginning to take on a sharp edge. “The punishment will only be worse if you don’t come out right this instant~” I sincerely wish I could scream at him right now, scream that I don’t care, that I’m not a fucking child, that nothing he can ever say will get me to come out of hiding, but unfortunately I can’t.

“Si cagna…,” Luciano sneers to himself. “I’m going to find you, you know?!”

A thunderous crash tells me that he sent a bar stool flying and I shudder. He’s going to make a real mess in here just to find me. I actually feel bad that I’m hiding in here of all places, especially since I doubt this place has much of any alcohol stored somewhere else in the building. Luciano’s going to destroy most of it in his search, if he doesn’t find me almost immediately.

This is the goddamn scariest game of hide and seek I’ve ever played.

**Zero Percent Power**

I didn’t think anything could be louder than the cacophonous noise of James and Allen knocking down the office doors, but this is somehow so much worse. Luciano is smashing bottles, tearing apart booths, and slamming tables and chairs every which way. I thought he would’ve found me ages ago, but it seems like he’s fallen into a fit of rage and just wants to destroy as much as he possibly can. I know he’ll find me soon, though, so I have to be prepared.

Luciano’s footsteps have passed my hiding spot in the cabinet under the bar many times, but this time as he’s drawing closer, I can see the glow of his magenta eyes through the small cracks of the cabinets. Now that he’s not completely blinded by rage, I can feel his venomous glare burning through the cabinet doors, and I know I might be done for.

There’s a sound like a thunderclap as Luciano kicks in the door of a nearby cabinet, smashing the bottles of alcohol inside, and I feel my stomach twist. I would prefer that he not break my nose before finding me, if he really has to.

Luciano grunts as he gets onto his knees, seeming to realize that kicking in the cabinets isn’t the best way to go about this, and I hear him throw open the next two cabinets. He’s going to find me in seconds.

The small space I’m crammed into floods with bright magenta light as Luciano finally opens my cabinet’s door, glowering down at me angrily. “Son of a bitch,” he growls as I stare back at him in terror, and before I can even think to try anything, he grabs me by the front of my shirt. He drags me out of the cabinet, carelessly hitting my head on the rim of the bar as he lifts me up faster than I can comprehend.

I don’t get even a moment to breathe before he slams me down onto the bar counter. A cough leaps out of my chest and although I try to fight back and protect myself, I’m unable to stop Luciano from shoving me off the other side of the counter. I land hard on my side, wincing in pain.

Before I can get up or even really comprehend what just happened, Luciano’s in front of me again, cornering me. Adrenaline pumps through me as I try to scramble away, but he’s all too quick to grab me by the throat, slamming me back against the counter. I sputter, gasping and choking as I writhe under his grip, but he doesn’t let go.

“You’re so fucking annoying, did you know that, ragazza?” Luciano snarls. “I wanted to actually have some fun with you tonight, but now we’re almost all out of time!”

“Shouldn’t have underestimated me, then,” I spit, my voice raspy from the weight he’s putting onto my throat. “Plus, you’re a shit searcher.”

Luciano slaps me across the face, leaving me reeling. Damn, that hurts so much more when a robot does it. “Shut the fuck up. I won, you don’t get to talk anymore. All you get to do before you die is pleasure me like the useless whore you are!”

I gasp out a laugh. “In your fuckin dreams, buddy!”

He flings me to the ground at my words, finally releasing my throat, and I let in a deep breath of air. My relief is short-lived, however, as he nearly immediately crawls on top of me, straddling my waist. I struggle against him, even going so far as to punch him in the face even though punching literal metal hurts like a _bitch_ before he can pin my hands down.

“Why are you so _fucking_ persistent?! Just give up already!” Luciano screeches.

“Never,” I hiss, and Luciano actually lets out a scream of frustration.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps and a yell of anger, followed quickly by a loud bang before Luciano or I can react. Luciano, dazed, releases me as he falls away, and almost instantly, several pairs of hands are on me, helping me to my feet.

“(Y/N)! Did he hurt you?!”

I’m surprised to recognize the voice of… “Antonio?!”

“Si! Gosh, chica, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that! Lutz and Kuro are… not easy to deal with,” he admits, motioning towards the back of the bar where the two 2ps have been disabled; their eyes aren’t even glowing anymore.

“Aye, we would’ve been done for without the others,” Allistor points out.

“He means us,” Elizabeta sighs, motioning towards Natalia with the frying pan in her hand. Now that I think about it, that must be what I heard—they hit Luciano with a fucking frying pan! If I know anything about him from the last hour I’ve been running and hiding from him, that’s really only going to make him extremely pissed.

I blink at the Hetaloids standing around me. Something doesn’t feel quite right about this…. Oh, yes, that’s right. “Wait, how did you guys help me? I thought you weren’t allowed to?”

“Well… the idiots on stage aren’t,” Allistor explains. “We’re just not supposed to leave the bar. We don’t exactly get a lot of visits from the nightguards… ever, so they’ve never had to implement something like that.”

“But it means we could come to your rescue, mi amore! Isn’t that good?” Antonio asks.

“Well yeah, of course that’s good! It’s just a little… jarring, is all,” I admit. So much has already happened tonight, I can barely keep track of it all.

“BASTARDS!!” I shudder at the scream of an enraged voice. That’s Luciano, for sure.

“This is getting out of hand!” Gilbert yells, and Lovino screams in pain on cue. It sounds like they’re trying to hold Luciano back, but the rogue Hetaloid has gotten so angry that he’s trying to tear them apart.

I need to do something.

“I’m dealing with this!” I announce as I speed off towards the scuffle as quickly as I can, ignoring the shocked stares from the surrounding Hetaloids. Just from what I can see via the glowing eyes of the Hetaloids all throughout the room, the scene is gruesome. Gilbert is the only one still fighting, with Lovino lying off to the side with a knife in his stomach.

I _need_ to do something.

"Hey Luciano, you good-for-nothing bastard, get the hell over here!" I shout, inexplicable confidence rising up within me, and the quarrelling stops almost instantly. Luciano’s glowing magenta eyes find me in an instant and I gulp nervously.

"Mein Gott! What are you doing, Frau?" Gilbert huffs, struggling to stay upright. Luciano did a number on them both.

"Saving your ass from Luciano the, uh… cagna asino buono a nulla!" I shout, trying my best to remember my vocabulary of Italian curse words. There's a moment of silence and I hear Lovino laughing weakly.

"Take that back you cazzo cagna!" Luciano suddenly screams, leaping to his feet. A scream of terror rips out of my mouth and I take off sprinting from the bar area, Luciano close behind me. Terence did say he was fast. I nearly stop as I emerge into the Party Room, unsure of where to head, but a sharp pain in my leg easily keeps me going.

"You stupid girl! I’m going to make you pay! You’re going to _wish_ you were dead by the end of tonight!” Luciano screeches furiously as I jump up onto a table. I gasp for breath, my eyes darting around as I to plan out a reliable escape path. Thank god I only have to worry about one Hetaloid now.

“Your fantasies are fun, Luciano, but they’re not gonna be anything other than that!” I yell back, taunting him a bit. I know angering him right now probably isn’t the best idea, but I just can’t help it! This son of a bitch needs to be put in his place, shown that he doesn’t just get everything he wants because of who he is. “Besides, I think everyone would rather you keep those to yourself? It’s a little TMI.”

Luciano actually roars. “I’m going to make you regret those words, you stupida ragazza!” he cries, clenching his fists angrily as he glares me down.

“Oh, blah blah! What's with your lame insults, cazzo macchina?” I start, cutting off as Luciano charges at me. I yelp in both fear and excitement, quickly jumping away across a couple tables as he slams into the one I was just standing on. Luciano's limbs are starting to twitch from the overdrive he must be putting himself through, and although it would be funny if he weren't trying to kill me, right now it's actually quite terrifying.

"Plus, I’ve already outsmarted you once! If I’m stupid, you must be a fottuto idiota!" There's a wider grin on my face then there's ever been, but I really am terrified. I swear I am, but this is really just too much fun. He’s going to tear me apart if he catches me, though—the murderous scowl on his face says it all.

"Y-you have signed a-a-away your fate, si cagna," Luciano simply snarls, his voice starting to glitch, and I feel a new wave of adrenaline roll over me. I’m a fish out of water if my shift doesn’t end soon.

“Have I?” I yell back towards him. “I don’t see my signature!”

My hands sweat and my knees shake as I make my next move, leaping off of the table as Luciano lets out a horrifying scream and springs at me, knives flying from his fingertips. I shriek as I hit the ground wrong, my ankle rolling awkwardly beneath me, but even the pain now flaring through my lower leg isn’t enough to stop me from sprinting towards my chosen route of evasion—the kitchen.

Luciano races after me as I enter the dark room, the adrenaline rushing through my veins causing me to giggle with hysteria. I knock over a shelf of pots as I race by, hoping to impede Luciano’s path, but the sound of metal crushing underfoot is more terrifying than I could’ve imagined.

Thinking fast, I jump up onto one of the counters, spending only a fraction of a second to look around. Pain slashes through my upper arm and I put on a burst of speed, shoving even more pots and pans off of my path as Luciano follows me from ground level, unrelenting in both his pace and the rate at which he’s throwing knives at me (how the hell does he have this many?!)

Thankfully, while he is throwing them quite hard, he’s not super accurate in the darkness of this room, especially since we’re both sprinting as fast as we can, and it’s pretty easy to dodge the knives for the most part.

I grab a pan as I leap off of the corner, spinning around to slam it into the side of Luciano’s head. He grunts heavily as it sends him slamming into the opposing counter and I take off once again, beginning to feel sick. I am _not_ fit enough to keep this up for much longer, and even if my shift were to end right this instant, I might still end up throwing up.

Luciano hot on my heels, I head straight for my exit, leaping over counters and dodging an assortment of cutlery and sharp objects as I go. The enraged Hetaloid doesn’t hesitate to follow me, not quite close enough to grab onto me yet.

Knives fly by me, some gouging deeper into my arms and legs than others, but none have hit my torso or actually lodged in yet, so I don’t think I have a fatal injury. The slightly lighter rectangle of darkness in the wall signals my exit to the Party Room just ahead, and I feel my soul flutter. Just… a little… bit… more!

My foot touches the line between the rooms as I bound out, and right on cue the choir of angels greets me.

**~ _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG~**

"YES!!!" I scream, immediately collapsing to my knees a few steps into the Party Room as the building lights come on. I don’t even mind that I skid across the floor as I throw my arms up over my head in celebration, blood flicking off of me. All that matters right now is the intense light I feel deep within my core, burning so brightly that I’m overwhelmed with pure joy. I’m so happy! I’m, ha, I’m alive!

My power went out, like Terence said not to happen. I was caught, like Terence told me not to let happen. But then I got away, because some of these robots have their heads screwed on right and decided that they would help. And then I proceeded to repeatedly insult the guy who nearly killed me until he got so mad that he just blindly chased after me and threw enough knives to fill up the entire Stage. And I lived. I fucking lived. There can't be a more alive idiot than me!

Tears spring into my eyes, freely flowing down my cheeks as I cry into my hands. This is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and it took surviving a killer robot who could’ve very well killed me twice to reach it. I’m in a state of absolute euphoria! I’ve never wanted to feel this happy!

Luciano emerges from the kitchen doorway but I can only grin at him, knowing I probably shouldn’t be smiling at a robot who definitely still wants to kill me when I can’t prove that he won’t. His magenta eyes glower at me as he stiffly walks by, looking absolutely furious as he begrudgingly heads towards the Hangar. Hell, now that the lights are on and he’s not trying to murder me anymore, he really does look like a snotty kid who’s been yelled at to go to bed. I almost can’t believe I was terrified of him.

“Holy shit!” Lovino cries, dashing out into the Party Room from the bar. He’s still got a knife stuck in him. “Bella, what the hell were you thinking?! That wasn’t safe!”

I chuckle a little bit, awkwardly turning to face him. I know I look like a mess. “It saved you, didn’t it?”

Arthur sighs as he walks up behind me. “Not that I’m upset or anything… but how the bloody _hell_ did you survive that?”

“Good luck,” Allistor drawls as he enters the conversation. “And Hetaloids that aren’t allowed to be passive bystanders like you pussies,” he teases.

Arthur clenches his fist, looking almost furious. “Oh you bloody-! You know, fine, whatever. You’re right, for once,” he admits. “But we’re not bystanders because we’re cowards, so don’t phrase it like that, git!”

“Bucket,” Kiku softly mentions, holding a metal pail out to me.

I’m confused until I feel my stomach squirm unpleasantly. “Oh shit, thanks,” I manage to squeak out right before the bile rises up in my throat and I can’t take it anymore. I empty the remnants of my dinner out into the bucket and groan. “Ohhhhh that wasn’t pleasant.”

“I bet not, dude. You had us scared half to death!” Alfred says, gently patting me on the back.

“We’re proud of you, though,” Francis sighs, sitting down nearby.

“Oh God, (Y/N)!! I was so worried for you, oh my god, I’m so sorry my 2p is so awful!” Feliciano’s squeaky voice breaks into the heartfelt conversation, and I only have a moment to move the puke bucket away from me before he slams into my side, enveloping me in a metallic hug.

I laugh nervously. “It’s alright Feli, it’s not your fault,” I tell him. “But uh, please let go, I’m gonna-” I start, and thankfully he lets go right as I throw up again, just barely able to reach the bucket in time.

“Shittttttt I really hate this,” I growl. “I never thought I’d have such a dire reason to get into shape.”

“Eh, well, hopefully you won’t be running from the 2ps too often,” Francis chuckles. “They’ll outsmart you eventually, even if you can best them at first.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I know. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that…. I’m hoping I can get to the bottom of all of this before it can come to that,” I admit.

Alfred smiles reassuringly. “Well, whatever does happen, we believe in you.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

Now I just have to get home without anyone calling the police.

**Six Twenty-Six A.M. — After Shift**

It took me a little while to patch myself up, changing out of my work clothes before I head home so no one can see the carnage of torn and bloodstained fabric that was previously my uniform. It shouldn’t be too hard to patch up by myself, but I am going to need to ask for a new uniform for tomorrow. Since I clearly need all the sleep I can possibly get tonight, I don’t have the time to fix this thing up. I’m not having another disaster tomorrow, anyway.

With a small wave towards the Maintenance Hetaloids, I exit the building and nearly immediately, to my utter annoyance, run into someone. I mutter an excuse me and start to head on my way, but the mystery man stops me.

“Um, hey, are you alright? You’re looking a little roughed up…. Rough night?” A charismatic voice asks me.

I turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow. There’s not much my brain can process, being exhausted as it is, but the uniform he’s wearing clearly indicates that he works here. Is he one of the day guards…? The Maintenance Hetaloids haven’t even gotten close to finishing, he’s here too early! I can’t let him inside to see that huge mess!

“Um, yeah, hey, uh,” I start, but my words slur with drowsiness. “Gosh, um, look. A burglar broke in and I sorta had a bit of a scuffle with them? The Hetaloids helped me out, but it’s a bit of a mess in there,” I explain.

The man only chuckles. “Oh, nah, don’t worry about it. It’s almost always a mess in there when I come in. This place is a very popular place for burglars, you must be pretty capable, hm?”

It takes me a moment to register that this guy _actually_ thinks that there’s just a whole ton of burglars breaking in here. “Um, yeah, sure,” I respond sarcastically. “Totally not a normal kid fresh out of college who got shoved into this situation,” I snark, beginning to head away. I don’t need to concern myself with this guy if the carnage indoors isn’t going to freak him out, I have more important things to get to (sleep).

“H-hey, wait, you can’t just say something like that and then walk away!” the man argues, grabbing onto my arm.

My fists clench as I recoil with pain, trying my damnedest not to wince. “Sure I can. That’s what I’m doing now, is it not?” I point out sharply, trying to keep up a cool exterior. I don’t want this guy to get curious enough that he does something stupid, but I also don’t want him to think that I’m crazy, so telling him about the killer robots… wouldn’t work.

He squints at me, unamused. “Yeah, okay, whatever. You work the night shift, right?”

“Um, yeah?” I say as he releases me, rubbing my arm awkwardly.

“Thought so,” he comments, and then he heads into the building without another word. Hell, he turned that on me fast. I wonder what he means, though.

Whatever, I need to go to bed.


	4. Night Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for night four, and although you've never been much of a defeatist, you don't know if you'll be able to make it. But in a peculiar turn of events, things end up going well for once and you learn some things that would've otherwise stayed hidden.
> 
> (This is the calmest chapter in the work¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ )

**Eleven Forty-Two P.M.—Before Shift**

I groan lowly to myself as I get out of my car and trudge up the pathway towards the Pizzeria. At least I managed to get more sleep today, but I honestly feel so ridiculously awful today. I mean, to be fair, I have more bruises, scrapes, and cuts then I can count and the long slice on my upper arm that Oliver gave me is still constantly threatening to become infected, so it’s no wonder I feel like hell. Plus, I was literally sprinting until I threw up yesterday, so there’s that.

Even though I know I should be dreading the night ahead of me, I don’t think there’ll be anything worse than Luciano. Plus, I’m not letting my power run out, not again, and that action in itself avoids at least half the mess that last night was.

I pause at the entrance, craning my neck back to look up towards the bright fluorescent sign on top of the building. “Hetaloid Idol Pizzeria: The Whole World In One Building!” the sign declares, the heads of the G8 perched on top of the logo. It looks just the same as it did on my first night here, but now it carries such a dark message behind it.

The ‘dark secret’ wouldn’t be so well kept if people would actually believe in killer animatronics, though. I doubt any other guard’s had the guts to try and say something about it.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, I shove open one of the glass doors and head inside, surprised to slam straight into another employee. I very nearly fall over, scrambling backwards and blushing in embarrassment. I’m in the middle of apologizing profusely when I see who it is.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

“You have a habit of doing that every time you meet someone new?” The man—the same man from this morning—snarks. I grimace at him.

“Why are you here? I thought you had morning shift,” I point out.

“Well, yeah, I did. But… I guess you could say I got curious,” he explains, motioning to his uniform, and my eyes widen with disbelief as I recognize the dark blue garb of a nightguard uniform. “I don’t know what the hell happened to you last night, but I can’t stand to let a pretty little thing like you watch over this place at night alone if it’s that rough! So I gave up that shift to another guard and decided to join you,” he tells me, extending a hand towards me, and it’s obvious that he thinks he’s being helpful.

I squint at him, debating whether I should be rude or not. I slap his hand away. “Uh, yeah, no thanks. Especially not with a patronizing as fuck attitude like that,” I retort, pacing past him impatiently.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He complains, racing to catch up with me. “Geez, Doll, I didn’t mea-”

I spin around to glare at him, both furious and terrified. “Don’t. Call. Me. Doll,” I hiss, and he backs off instantly.

“Okay, geez, geez, I’m sorry!” he apologizes, cowering a little as if that helps his already tainted image. “I just, why are you being so rude all of a sudden? You got some sorta stick up your butt?” He asks me as I continue on my way, and I inhale sharply through my teeth before turning back to him.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into here, and I’m telling you to go home. I can handle this by myself, anyway,” I snap, glaring at him pointedly. I really just don’t want to let anyone else put themselves in danger. “You’re a rookie, okay? I’d have to train you and all that bullshit and I honestly cannot handle that right now. It’s like you said last night; it’s been a _rough_ week.”

“Well… then don’t you need all the help you can get?” he asks, still following me into the employee break room. He isn’t wrong, since two pairs of eyes and a fresh mind on the case would indeed be helpful… but I don’t want to endanger him by letting him work with me. Especially if he’s an asshole, ‘cause then I don’t want to spend my last living hours around him if something does go terribly wrong. “Plus, boss kinda already okayed it, so….”

I groan heavily. “Fine! Just one thing—prove you’re not a fucking asshole,” I jive, pointing towards him.

He puts his hands up incredulously. “Alright, alright, geez, Do-. Gods, alright, sorry. It’s kinda in my way of talkin’ to call most people, ‘Doll’ y’know? So I’ll try to stop, but it won’t be easy. I just want you to understand that,” he explains. “But I’m not a complete asshole, okay? I know I can be a little, uh, maybe condescending? But I’m not meaning to be. Really, I’m being sincere when I say I want to help.”

I sigh, knowing he’s being sincere. “Alright, that’s fine, that’s good enough. I’m… sorry I got so snappy at you, I guess. It really… _has_ been a rough week.”

We both fall silent for an awkward moment as I organize my stuff, preparing myself mentally to go back to that tiny cramped office to be tormented for another six hours. “I’m Miles, by the way,” the other guard says suddenly, again extending his hand out to me, and it’s at that point that I realize neither of us knew each other’s names. That’s a little awkward, considering I was yelling at him the way I was.

I take his hand a bit stiffly. “I’m, um, (Y/N),” I respond.

Miles grins charismatically. “Well, nice to officially meet you, (Y/N)!” He chirps. “I am curious, at the very least, to see what’s going on here. Has management ever tried to do anything about this?

I shrug, beginning to head off towards the office, and Miles tows at my heels “Oh, uh, well… I’m not really sure they know, I guess. I mean, they probably peg it all on burglars, the same way you did this morning. They… either don’t know or don’t care about what’s actually going on.”

Miles stops, an eyebrow raised. “What do you mean _actually_ going on? Care to elaborate?”

I let out a deep sigh, turning towards him. “I knew I should’ve started talking about this in the office…. But look, if I tell you… well, frankly I don’t think you’ll believe me. And if management doesn’t already know, they wouldn’t believe me either. What’s happening here just… isn’t something you believe unless you see it,” I explain.

“Plus, we need to get into that office by the time our shift starts. I do _not_ like being out here past twelve,” I state pointedly, and without another word (or paying attention to Miles' attempts to continue the conversation out here) I head towards the office.

Miles finally concedes as I ignore him, following me into the cramped office where we’re going to be spending the next six hours of our lives, perhaps in absolute terror. The office is even more crowded than usual now, with two rolling chairs shoved into the small space, but it does clearly show that Miles wasn’t lying; our boss did already okay him working with me.

I let out a sigh, practically collapsing into my chair.

Miles stares at me awkwardly, standing on the cusp of the room. “So… are we gonna close the doors or…?”

“Nah, there’s not any danger yet. Plus, that would just drain power,” I explain tiredly.

“Geez, you really talk about all of this way too casually, you know that?” he comments, chuckling nervously as he sits down in his own chair. “Why are you working here if it’s so terrible, anyway?”

I sigh again, shutting my eyes. “I honestly don’t know. I mean, originally it was for the money, but it’s not even that anymore. No amount of money would really make this job _worth it_. I guess I just… really want to try to do something about what’s going on here, you know?”

Miles shrugs. “I mean, not really, but I’ll take your word for it.”

I roll my eyes. Of course he doesn’t understand, though of course he won’t until he sees them himself. While I do want him to understand just how dangerous the 2ps are, I really hope the ones that come out today aren’t too bad. Shoving Miles directly into a life or death situation would be cruel, especially since he has no idea what the hell’s actually going on.

I just hope we’ll both be lucky enough to survive this.

 **One Hundred Percent Power**  
**Twelve O’Clock A.M.**

As soon as those haunting chimes have finished ringing throughout the building, the lights in the building all turn off. I hear Miles' breath hitch in his throat, and though I don’t blame him for being startled, there are a lot more important things to be worried about right now. I pick up my tablet.

“Does that always happen?” Miles asks nervously.

I shrug. “Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s just for conserving power. This place uses up a lot of power during the day so they try to minimize the power usage at night,” I respond. _By giving us the smallest amount of power possible to survive_ , I growl internally, though I’m not gonna tell Miles that. Not yet, anyway; frankly I just don’t think he’d believe me if I told him something like that.

I switch on my tablet and Miles follows suit, switching through the cameras to familiarize himself with the building.

“Man, it’s weird seeing this place through these cameras,” he comments.

“Yeah, they’re a little janky, but they get the job done,” I say. “Oh, there’s also an audio mode, if you press that button. It’ll turn off the video though, so use it carefully.”

“Erm, alright,” Miles responds, switching the cameras for a moment, but it’s dead quiet from his pitch-black screen. He shrugs.

Letting out a short sigh, I turn to look down at the view on my screen. The Doppelgänger Hangar stands idly, still secured into place, but I don’t feel any sense of calm looking at it even now. I know the monsters that are in there, I know what they want from me, and it ain’t pretty.

“You know, you, uh, still haven’t explained to me what’s going on,” Miles points out, breaking through my thoughts. I look away from the hangar, turning off my tablet to conserve power.

“Well, look; first of all, I’m a hundred and ten percent sure that you’re not going to believe me, but you need to be at least semi-prepared for this even if you think I’m joking or whatever method you’re gonna use to try and prove me wrong,” I start.

Miles frowns. “I’m really not that much of an asshole.”

“I know, but if I were in your position I’d be doing the same thing, so I’m just preparing for that,” I respond. “I mean, maybe you will believe me, but…. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me if I was in your place! It really is something you have to see to believe, because it sounds fucking crazy.”

He sighs. “Alright, you know, fair enough. But at least try me, ‘kay? I’ll listen.”

“Okay, just… don’t laugh or anything, please,” I say, casting my gaze towards the ground. It wouldn’t hurt for him to try to refute me on what I tell him since it is seriously crazy, but if he laughs at me… he’s laughing in the face of all the shit I’ve been through. I don’t think I’d be able to take that without literally having a breakdown.

“I would never.”

I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes for a long moment as I summon my guts. “Alright, um, look,” I say, turning my tablet back on. Thankfully, the Hangar’s still locked. “You see this place?”

“Erm, yeah, I heard that was a supplies closet or something? I’ve never been in there, though,” he responds.

I let out a harsh laugh. “Heh, yeah, I _wish_ it were just some supplies closet. I’ve never been in there either, but… I know what’s in there.” I pause, recounting what I’ve learned over the past three days. “So, you remember the dismantling of ‘07, right? Or, at least, you’ve heard of it?” Miles nods. “Yeah, well, the robots that were responsible for that… well, they didn’t get destroyed. I’m not really sure if they were meant to be destroyed or not, but they’re just… chilling in the Hangar, and they only come out at night.”

“Their, um, general aim seems to be… well, to kill the nightguard,” I choke out. “So if the boss _does_ know about this whole thing, then we’re definitely meant to keep the Hetaloids in check. If they have promise of easy prey to hunt during the night, they’ll be less likely to come out during the day, since that would surely be disastrous.”

“Wait, to _hunt_?” Miles asks incredulously.

I nod solemnly. “Yeah, I- I know that sounds ridiculous. But I’ve had three nights of these bastards trying to kill me already, and that’s why most people quit so quickly.”

“But, I mean… the last person who tried to do what I’m doing…. I dunno, he disappeared over a year ago,” I say, my heart aching a little as I think about Terence. He was incredibly selfless doing what he did—not only surviving for weeks at this job but also leaving recordings so that those who came after him could be better prepared than he was.

“Disappeared? Like, did he die?”

“I don’t know, actually. Alfred… er, I mean, America just said he… disappeared one night. That was over a year ago, though, so there’s no telling what actually happened to him,” I sigh. “His name was Terence, by the way. He left these pre-recorded messages—one is bound to play any moment—that sorta help tell me what to do. Otherwise, I would’ve gone into this blind and, I mean, who really knows what would’ve happened then. I might’ve died on the first night,” I admit.

Miles nods as I finish talking, awkwardly blowing air out of his mouth. “Okay, yeah, you’re right, that does sound pretty fucking crazy. But I mean… I _saw_ you last… well, this morning. You didn’t look okay, and plus, this place is almost always a mess when I come in… so obviously there’s something going on here.”

“It just… sounds ridiculous that there’d be, what, haunted animatronics doing all this?” he points out, looking at me apologetically.

I frown. “Miles! I… okay, I guess I shouldn’t be mad at you. You listened to me, and that’s at least something. But I mean, wouldn’t it also be kinda weird if there were burglars every single night too? If that were the case they’d at least get some actual security. Like, police officers with guns and all. They wouldn’t leave me completely defenseless if it was… like that.”

“And, I mean, saying they’re _haunted_ isn’t exactly correct,” I point out. “From what I’ve gathered from the first two nights, when the 2ps actually talked to me they, uh, think it’s some sorta bug? I don’t know, maybe it was maliciously coded into them at some point or another, but these things… claim to have sex drives? They tend to get really restless since they’re forced to sit in the hangar all the rest of the time, so they just… all sorta have different ways of getting that frustration out.”

“That’s… fucking crazy. Like, you’re not fucking crazy necessarily, cause clearly something’s actually happening, but _this_ is fucking crazy,” Miles sighs, grabbing his head. “I mean, do you think… maybe… I’m not saying this is it, but…? Do you think you’re placing the animatronics as your attackers to deal with the trauma?”

I almost start to get angry, but I know he’s just trying to figure this out. I’ll humour him for now, by countering him with as much evidence as I can remember from last night. “Uhhhh one of them actually threw a table at me with a whole ton of force, I don’t think humans can do _that_.”

He blows air out of his mouth again. “Okay yeah, that sounds… inhuman.”

Suddenly, the phone begins to ring, surprising us both. I glance over towards the old touch-tone phone and sigh. I don’t think I’m ready to hear from Terence again, considering that I don’t ever really know when the last recording will be. It could be this one.

“That’s Terence calling?” Miles asks.

Calling’s the wrong word, but…, “Yeah,” I sigh. I press the button to accept the call and wait in vague terror for what Terence has to tell us tonight.

 _“H-hello? Hey! Uh, hey… w-wow, you’re on, uh, night four now, right? I’m glad y-you’re still, uh here, ‘c-cause, like, this job isn’t, uh, easy!”_ Terence stutters, and the amount of fear in his voice is chilling. I haven’t heard him this terrified before. _“Uh, l-look. I’m, uh, I think I-I’m…. I’m running out of time! G-god, I tried s-s-so hard and y-yet…. Goddammit!”_ he cries in furious anguish.

He takes a deep breath, his voice shaking. _“T-that’s not the, uh, the point. J-just… keep in, uh, in mind… that I, uh, m-might not be around t-t-to… leave you a message tomorrow…,"_  Terence explains, trailing off into a shaky whisper and beginning to sob. Miles and I share a look of horror, but there’s barely a moment for us to share before a loud bang, a sound like a gunshot, comes through the phone. I jump in surprise, my stomach swirling sickly as I recognize that dreadful sound of one of the office doors being broken down.

 _“S-sh-shit! N-no, I, it’s to-too soon, I-”_ Another thunderous bang, this time causing the metal of the door to cry out as it warps. Terence sobs and I feel tears spring into my eyes. _“I-I-I… a-at least I’m, uh, glad th-that I recorded… recorded t-these, uh, m-messages for you, uh,”_ he clears his throat, _“when I did….”_

There’s another resounding bang, the noise so loud that it shakes the receiver. _“H-hey, u-uh-um, look…. I-if… if you hear th-this, I guess… m-maybe do me a, uh, favour?”_ Terence asks in that nervous, shaky voice of his, and I can only imagine how many tears are pouring down his face. Yet another bang. The door will be down soon. _“I-if you, uh, t-think you could, uh, m-m-manage this… may-maybe, uh, take a, uh, l-look in the Hangar f-for me? W-who k-knows, maybe I’ll, uh, b-be alive…,”_ he jokes, laughing sadly.

I feel a twist of dread in my stomach and nearly dry retch. There’s no way we’re hearing this in time for Terence to be alive in there—it’s been nearly a year!

There’s a huge crash and Terence screams. _“O-o-oh god, oh god, oh g-god!”_ He squeals as thundering footsteps enter his room. _“Th-this c-ca-can’t be… all my research… how is this fair!?”_ He yells at the approaching Hetaloid, his voice trembling about as much as he must’ve been.

 _“Who-whoever’s listening t-t-to this…,”_ Terence starts suddenly. _“R-remember. Eighteen, forty-six, ninety-three, forty-two.”_ The Hetaloid’s getting closer as he murmurs the numbers, nearly whispering, into the receiver. _“EIGHTEEN, FORTY-SIX, NINETY-THRE-”_ His voice rises as the Hetaloid grows closer, and suddenly he’s abruptly cut off with a sound like the crack of bone.

 _“Stop talking,”_ a thick, robotic voice barks, and I only hear the Terence screaming in response.

The phone line goes dead, the dial tone ringing throughout the office, and we fall into a dreadful silence.

Tears bubble out of my eyes as the true reality of what I just witnessed hits me. _Terence might be dead._ Alfred said they didn’t find a body, he was never _confirmed_ dead, but that… monster hit him hard enough to crack a bone. It sounded like his skull split in half, he was screaming in absolute agony. _Is Terence dead? Is this what’s going to happen to me?!_

Miles frowns at me, worry evident on his face. “Are you okay?” His voice is hollow, and I can tell that listening to what happened to Terence hit him hard too.

“Terence… he’s dead, isn’t he?” I mutter wiping the tears off my face shamefully. He doesn’t answer, his face burning. “God, this is bad.”

“Yeah, you weren’t kidding,” he says. “These things are really out to kill you.”

“That’s not what I meant!” I snap. “I-I meant, like, I knew they wanted to kill me. I’ve known that since day one. Gods, I even thought it would happen a few times already. But that’s not the shocking part, that’s barely the _bad_ part!”

“Then, what-?”

“Why didn’t I hear about it?” I accuse. “Why hasn’t _anyone_ heard about this?!”

Miles cocks an eyebrow. “What are you saying…?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing exasperatedly. “I mean, _missing posters_ or some shit. At least a missing person report of some sort! I’ve lived here for long enough, and I haven’t heard anything about it! The only thing I haven’t done is ask the manager in person, but he didn’t even seem to know who Terence was in response to the email I sent him…,” I complain, running a hand through my hair.

“Wait, you said you live alone, right?” Miles asks suddenly.

I glance at him in slight confusion, surprised to see how wide his eyes are. “Uh, yeah?”

“How… recently did you move to this town? In the last couple of years by chance?” Miles questions, and I feel my heart constrict a little bit. How does he know that?

“Why are you asking that?” I ask instead of answering, feeling a little freaked out.

Miles purses his lips and sighs, realizing he was being a little too aggressive. “It’s just… if barely anyone knows about Terence and no missing posters were put up or anything, then he must’ve been some sort of nobody, right? Lives alone, doesn’t have a whole lot of friends, probably moved here too recently to know most of his neighbours very well,” Miles explains.

Every word he said basically describes me, and although I’m starting to connect the dots myself, I try to ignore the inevitable conclusion. “Yeah, and?”

“That’s how you are, isn’t it?” Miles says, and I feel my entire composure shatter.

“ _Fuck_ , I…,” I start, but I’m in too much shock to process my words anymore. “Y-yeah… I moved here a year ago or so… and I’m kind of a shut-in to be honest, since I mostly function during the night time…. Shit, do you think they recruited people like Terence and me on purpose?” I ask, glancing at Miles.

He sighs. “I don’t know. I hate to assume it since… you know, usually employers are at least human and somewhat care about their employees. But sending all of their nightguards to their untimely deaths is just harsh,” Miles growls to himself. I look at him with a hopeless expression, feeling the grief rise up in my stomach again. He notices me staring. “Oh, come on, hey. Doll… er, Max, it’s okay. It’s possible that Terence isn’t dead, you know. I mean, what reason would they have to kill him?”

I shrug, huffing out a sigh. “Hell if I know; I didn’t exactly give them a good reason to want to kill me either,” I point out. “I think they just like the thrill of the hunt… and they almost seem designed to kill. I dunno, that’s probably silly since they were supposed to be for kids in the first place….”

“Yeah… but what are they doing to you anyway? Attacking you?” Miles asks.

“Yeah, trying, for the most part,” I answer, picking nervously at my sleeve. “Though some of them, um, want to have… want to… have sex? It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with my gender, and I’m not really sure how they could possibly have anything like sex drives… but y’know.”

Miles makes a disgusted face. “Have they tried to…?”

“Er, well… only Allen really talked about it extensively,” I admit. “But I dunno, Oliver seemed… possessive, and Luciano definitely could’ve tried, so….”

He lets out a sigh at my words, putting a hand over his eyes. “You know, I really have no idea who you’re talking about with those names right? I think I need a bit more of an extensive debriefing, cause this is getting a little difficult to keep track of.”

“Oh, yeah, right….”

 **Eighty-Seven Percent Power**  
**Two-Thirteen A.M.**

“So… yeah, that’s everyone I’ve encountered so far,” I say, wrapping up my lengthy explanation of all the murderous robots I’ve met this week. He listened surprisingly well, and he’s been taking me incredibly seriously ever since Terence’s phone call. I guess actually hearing those metal footsteps, that robotic voice, and the way Terence was screaming… well, it makes everything seem so incredibly, painfully real.

“Geez, D- I mean, Max. Geez…,” Miles sighs. “That’s real fucked up, you know?”

I laugh dryly. “Ha, you don’t have to tell me.”

He waves a hand towards me concedingly. “But you haven’t met the guy that… got Terence?”

“No…. No, I haven’t,” I admit. “I didn’t know about him until just now, but that isn’t a voice I’ve heard before. I mean, I don’t even know how many of them are back there, who knows if I’ll even meet him this week. I sorta hope I won’t, in all honesty.”

“Yeah, there sure are a lot of them. You’ve been attacked by, what, six so far? And now there’s most definitely a seventh you haven’t met _and_ you think there’ll be new ones tonight?” Miles points out.

I shrug nervously. “I mean, I guess so? At first, I thought there’d maybe be eight, since that’s the number of the main cast, to point out the obvious…. But the fact that Mattie’s 2p came after me two nights ago means it’s not just them, so really there could be any number back there. I mean… I think there’s over forty normal ones in this building alone, and I hope to god there’s not that many back there!”

“No kidding,” Miles snorts.

“Yeah, well, if anything, we should be careful. You’re not as versed in this as I am so… please be careful and don’t do anything stupid,” I say. “Better yet, don’t do much unless I tell you to.”

“Fine by me.”

“Good. I’m not sure if the 2ps are gonna be happy that you’re here or not; on one hand, they now have more prey; on the other hand, we’re gonna be a lot more competent when it comes to fighting them off,” I explain. “Regardless, the possessive ones are _not_ gonna be happy that you’re here either way, so I’d keep a low profile if I were you.”

“Y-yeah…,” Miles agrees, though more hesitantly this time. His eyes are glued to his screen, and even before he says anything I know what’s happening. “Uh, (Y/N)? I think you should look at the screen now.”

 _Oh no._ I quickly flick on my own tablet, my fingers flying as I race to get a look at the Hangar. Just like the past few nights, it’s been practically obliterated upon being opened.

“That always stays unnerving to see, by the way,” I huff out, pulling up my own monitor. “Now help me find these bastards before they come to murder our asses.”

Immediately, I begin switching through the screens, lightning fast in comparison to Miles.

 **The Stage** —Alfred and Arthur stand on the stage, not talking and just staring at the 2p’s. Still as ominous as ever, even if their silent malice isn’t directed towards me.  
**West Hall** —No one yet  
**East Hall** —Same here  
**Closet** —The Maintenance and Server Hetaloids reside as usual, all shutdown.

 **Party Room** —Our main culprits reside.  
**The Bar** —Someone, presumably a Hetaloid, appears to be passed out on the floor?

“Um, is that normal?” Miles chips in.

“Not really, actually…? I’ve never seen a Hetaloid… well, not standing up, actually,” I respond, staring curiously at the android who really just looks like he’s passed out drunk. I wonder what he’s doing since I… really doubt Hetaloids can get drunk if they can even drink anything to begin with. That would require, like, blood, and a whole buncha other stuff that I’m not going to get into thinking about right now.

 **Backstage** —The usual members of the G8 seem to be talking with each other. I think that’s a good thing?  
**Doppelgänger Hangar** —Wide open, just like it was on Miles' screen. No traces of anyone else.

“Well, the good news is that no one looks particularly concerned about these 2ps… so we should probably be fine?” I say awkwardly. “I mean, there’s no telling. They might just be confident in my abilities now that I’ve dealt with Luciano, but… even then, they look a little too calm for these guys to be much of a threat.”

Miles yawns. “Well, that’s good, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. I’m so used to being incredibly afraid for my life as soon as the Hangar’s open that… honestly, I don’t even know what to do right now,” I explain, observing the two Hetaloids as they lazily walk into the Party Room. One of them seems particularly numbed to any and all stimuli happening around him, while the other is practically his complete opposite, jumping around the room and fawning over… the tablecloth? It’s hard to tell what he’s doing, but he sure is excited about something.

“Well… recognize either of these two?” Miles asks.

I roll my eyes. “Considering that the last six all tried to kill me and would, therefore, be considered a threat, the answer _should_ be obvious~” I mock.

“Oh come on!”

“But nah, I’ve never seen these two. I don’t know who they’re doubles of though, it’s really hard to tell through these cameras.”

“Yeah, you weren’t kidding about these damn things being janky,” Miles agrees, tapping the screen with his nail. “There’s so much static. You’d think they’d have better technology for cameras in a place like this.”

“With robots like this, you’d think, huh?” I huff.

We fall into an awkward silence and I even put my tablet down, but Miles isn’t so lenient. “Um, are we going to do anything about them?”

I shrug. “I mean, we can’t really? We just have to wait until they come to us,” I explain.

“That… _sucks_.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Well, yeah, that’s the weird part. This job gets boring as hell whenever you aren’t fearing for your life, and sometimes it’s hard to tell which part of it is worse,” I admit. “But these two don’t really seem to be in much of a hurry to get here, unlike… well, all of the others, actually. We should keep an eye on them, of course, but I don’t think we should worry too much, really.”

“So do we just… lean back? Enjoy the show?” Miles asks incredulously.

I shrug apologetically. “I guess so.”

 **Sixty-Five Percent Power**  
**Three Thirty-Two A.M.**

Thankfully, it’s a lot more difficult to get painfully bored out of my mind with another person in the office. We moved on from the topic of the robots currently ruining my life (though we kept a careful eye on the ones that were close by) and started talking about ourselves and our interests, what we did outside of this job.

Despite my first impression of Miles, he’s really not a bad guy. In fact, he’s quite enjoyable to talk to, and he had me laughing more than once.

Obviously having him around won’t solve everything or even anything at all, but it at least helps boost my morale. He’s stronger than me, for sure, but there’s no way he’d be stronger than one of the Hetaloids. Plus, he really doesn’t have any sort of idea what fighting these things is like, and he still won’t even if I describe it to him a hundred times over. I’m barely prepared myself, and I’ve been here in person the past three nights!

“Alright, alright, gimme a moment,” I chuckle heartily, picking up my tablet. I got Miles to be a bit more lenient with his tablet use as the night went on, since I definitely don’t want the sort of fiasco that last night was to happen again.

I flick on my tablet and nearly feel my heart stop.

Party Room—Empty. Uh-oh.

“Uh, party room’s empty,” I tell Miles.

He nearly leaps out of his chair to retrieve his own tablet, instantly snapping into a more serious mode at the hint of danger. Thank god for that, that’s what would’ve made working with a condescending asshole really difficult—the carelessness.

 **The Bar** —That mysterious Hetaloid is still passed out.  
**Backstage** —A lot of the chatter has settled, and I’m surprised to see that most of the G8 aren’t here.  
**Doppelgänger Hangar** —Still gaping open, still unbothered. No one’s left or entered as far as I can tell

 **The Stage** — Ludwig, Kiku, Ivan, and Francis have joined Alfred and Arthur onstage. They’re just talking with each other, still not seeming all too concerned.  
**West Hall** —There’s no one here  
**East Hall** —Oh, there they are.

“East Hall,” Miles and I say at the same time, causing me to chuckle.

Now that I can see them a bit closer, I can see that… well, the first one is probably Lovino’s double. He has that signature hair curl, and since Feliciano’s double is already out of the way, it has to be Lovino’s. But the other 2p isn’t like any of the ordinary Hetaloids I’ve seen. Maybe… if 2p Lovino’s hanging out with him… it’s Antonio’s 2p?

 **Closet** —Same as usual, though a particular Maintenance Hetaloid seems riled up.

“Should we close the door?” Miles asks, standing from his chair.

I shake my head. “Not yet. Not unless they get too close. We need to conserve as much power as possible,” I explain.

My heart flips in my chest as I watch Miles physically peak his head outside of the doorway. He pulls back quickly, a look of exhilarated terror on his face. “Wow, they look real fuckin’ creepy in the dark,” he admits with a laugh, though I can tell he was more flustered at the sight of the 2ps then he cares to admit.

“Oh, well, yeah, they’re like that,” I say, trying to make my voice sound normal. “Please never stick your head out there again,” I plead.

Miles turns to look at me, almost seeming surprised. “Oh, sorry (Y/N),” he laughs. “I guess it’s not very safe to do that, huh?” I shake my head in response as he returns to his chair, picking up his tablet.

“Uh… are they posing?” Miles asks abruptly, and I glance down in surprise. Lovino’s 2p, who I can now see is wearing some sort of white designer suit, is striking poses under the gaze of the camera. I had been so focused on Miles I forgot to look. “That’s weird, right? Or am I just seeing things and going crazy?”

“N-no, no, that’s definitely happening right before our eyes. Somehow,” I laugh. “But I’d say he probably just likes fashion. The other one doesn’t seem quite as enthralled by all of this.” I eye Antonio’s 2p who’s sulking in the corner. “Though, I mean, maybe a guy who likes fashion won’t be much of a threat. I mean, who would get blood on a suit like that?” I point out jokingly, and I’m surprised when the Hetaloid’s head snaps up as if he heard me.

Immediately, the two are heading down the hall towards us, and I’m all too quick to jump up and punch the door button, causing the massive metal weight to collapse to the floor as a protective barrier of metal.

“Oh, bella~” a voice wails from outside, and I shudder. I hate that nickname so much after last night. “Why’d you close the door on me~?”

“You know, I don’t know if you’re aware, but literally every animatronic in this building has tried to kill me within the past three days,” I point out, sending a smirk towards Miles. _Are these guys serious?_ “Check the west hall,” I mouth to Miles before turning my attention back to Lovino’s double.

“Yeah, well, we’re not—I mean, _I’m_ not like the others,” he claims. I roll my eyes. So Antonio’s 2p is still a threat.

“Well you know, I may just have a conversation with you then,” I tell him. “But I’m not opening the door.”

“Aww, c’mon bella~ I just want to see you~ Believe it or not, Luci had some very… _kind_ things to say about you last night,” Lovino’s 2p whines childishly.

I roll my eyes. “Alright, sure, I’ll let you see me. Just tell me your name first, alright?”

“Of course, bella~! Oh, how rude of me to forget to tell you my name!” he gushes. “My name is Flavio Vargas, and I’m the most fabulous of the Italiano brothers—all 4! And this grumpy loser here with me is Santiago! He’s a grumpy butt but he likes to have some fun from time to time, which is why we get day 4 to ourselves!” Flavio exclaims.

I raise an eyebrow. “Fun meaning…?” I question.

“Ah, ah, ah, bella~ Let me see you first, then we’ll talk~” Flavio purrs, and I sigh. Of course. They always want to see me. If I ever get the chance I’m going to hit one of them up the jaw for ogling over me.

“Very well, Flavio,” I sigh in agreement, moving to stand in front of the window. Flavio is there in an instant, staring at me through wide, almost childlike eyes. It would be cute if his eyes weren’t glowing, so, for the most part, it’s a little more than discomforting.

“Wow, bella, you’re so beautiful!” Flavio exclaims, and I blush. I’m really not a conventionally attractive girl or even human in any sense of the word, but each and every single one of these 2ps has been flattering me nonstop, albeit mostly with unwarranted and unwanted ‘compliments’ aka catcalling. “I would love to use you as a model, you know! I think you’d look wonderful in my summer bloom dress!”

“I mean, I’d prefer a suit, but…. You’re a fashion designer?” I ask, a little taken aback. Do the animatronics have jobs?

Flavio laughs nervously, seeming to have not expected my question either. “Ah, well… not literally. I am extremely versed in fashion and often create my own designs in my spare time, but I have nothing to show for it. It was all programmed into me,” he explains.

“Huh. That’s kinda cool,” I say. For once, one of them who’s complimenting me without undressing me with his eyes. Not quite, at least. He’s undressing me and then _re_ -dressing me. How kind.

“You really think so?!” Flavio asks, and I laugh, realizing I’ve never heard one of the 2ps sound so excited, other than Oliver maybe. I suppose Lovino is really rather grumpy, so it would make sense that meeting his 2p would be like eating an entire spoonful of sugar.

“Yeah, actually. None of the other 2ps have ever talked about anything then wanting to kill me or…,” I pause, glancing back at Miles. He’s glancing at his screen every so often, but for the most part, he’s quietly paying attention to our conversation—something I admittedly didn’t expect from a hothead like him. “You know. They never talk about the things they like, which I think is kind of sad.”

“Oh, I absolutely agree, bella!” Flavio exclaims eccentrically.

“Oi!” Santiago shouts quite suddenly. “Stop encouraging him, it gets annoying!”

I scowl. “If you’re annoyed then go back to the Hangar,” I sneer back. Suddenly, Flavio is thrust to the side and Santiago stomps up to the window, glowering at me.

“Given the chance, I would break your jaw,” he growls.

“And given the chance, I would beat the fuck out of Luciano, but we can’t always get what we want,” I retort, smirking a little too widely. These 2ps are a lot more fun to deal with then the other ones have been.

“I could go get him if you want,” Santiago snarls. “I’m sure he’d love a second go.”

I shrug. “He’d probably be too afraid that I’d best him again to come out,” I point out. “So I mean, go ahead, I guess.”

Santiago huffs angrily, glaring at me for one more moment before spinning on his heel to march down the hall. _Holy shit he’s actually doing it._

“Santiago, no! This guard is actually nice, don’t get Luci!” Flavio cries, leaping for Santiago and pulling him backwards.

“Yeah, maybe don’t be that overconfident since you nearly died last night,” Miles points out, and immediately the two bickering Hetaloids fall silent. I guess they didn’t notice him beforehand, but they certainly notice him now.

“Who the fuck is that?!” Flavio snaps in surprise, his voice becoming high-pitched for a moment.

“I’m Miles, the other nightguard,” Miles introduces himself, holding a hand out for Flavio to shake before seeming to remember that they’re separated by at least a foot of metal.

“The other… the what?” Flavio stutters out, letting Santiago go as he melts into a puddle of confusion.

“Is that… weird?” Miles asks, confused. I shrug when looks at me—how would I know? I’ve only worked here for three days!

“There’s just… there… wow, oh my!” Flavio exclaims, fanning himself. “There’s never been two nightguards before, and you’re just both… so attractive…,” he purrs, and I feel a blush spread across my face as Miles and I glance at each other. His face is the same shade, and I can tell we’re both thinking _what the fuck?!_

“Oh, well, um,” Miles starts, coughing awkwardly. “Thank… you…?”

He glances to me for some sort of support, but all I can do is shrug awkwardly. “I don’t know, they’ve never been this… up front or nice before,” I hiss out between my teeth.

“I told you… _I_ was different, didn’t I, bella~?” Flavio laughs, and I visibly shudder.

Miles frowns. “Uh, hey, the compliments are nice and all, but maybe don’t call them that? They had a rough time with your brother last night, you know?” he snaps, and I stare at him in surprise. Even with the nickname making me uncomfortable, I wasn’t going to say anything about it!

Flavio blinks. “Oh! Oh dear, mio caro, I am _so_ sorry!” he gushes. “I completely forgot that you had to deal with the Axis just last night, I mean, gosh! It’s been so long since we’ve actually had to come out on this night! How long would you say it’s been Santiago…?”

“Close to a year?” I cut in, and the Hetaloid looks up in startling realization.

“Yes, that’s-! Wait, how do you know that?”

I gulp, my palms beginning to sweat as I start to think about it all again. “Terence.”

“What?”

“He… he was the nightguard here close to a year ago, and the only one that managed to survive multiple weeks since then. His name was Terence,” I explain. “He, um, left explanatory recordings for me so that suddenly being hounded by killer robots was, well, less of a culture shock, you know? He was the last person who tried to figure this place out, I guess.”

“And is that what you’re trying to do?” Flavio asks curiously.

“Yeah, for the most part. I know it’s probably silly… maybe even suicidal, but I want to get to the bottom of what’s happening here. I mean, hell, there’s a lot more going on here than just rogue robots. Oliver was blaming others for being locked away, James said he thought their humanity was a bug of some sort…,” I point out, realizing this is all new information for Miles and I really should’ve told him earlier (though I would’ve, if I hadn’t forgotten). “There’s got to be something I can do, I hope. A way to make sure no one else has to die, mostly.”

Flavio is silent for a few moments. “Wow… that’s, well, very passionate of you, mio caro.” Oh how quickly he switches between nicknames.

“Well, you’ll probably be glad to hear that I’m not like the rest of the 2p’s—I’m certainly not anything like that rotten brother of mine if you couldn’t already tell,” Flavio assures. “I won’t ask you to let me in, since that’s sure to be reason for some suspicion, but… if you don’t mind I would like to stay here and talk.”

“In truth, you do interest me, Max. In a, well, different way than you _interested_ Luci. And of course I’m interested in you, too, Miles,” Flavio laughs.

The three of us fall silent for a moment. “Why don’t you want to attack us, though?” Miles asks.

“Well… I guess I sort of do,” Flavio admits. “It’s in my programming to do so, but I’ve never cared for it much. If my brother couldn’t get you, there’s no way I’ll be able to. So I prefer talking, to put it plainly. It’s time better spent.” _Wow, now that’s interesting_. A 2p that’s not so confident in himself that he blindly chases the small sliver of chance that he might be able to catch the nightguard.

“Um, yeah, give us one moment,” Miles says, gently pulling me aside to the corner of the room. It isn’t very far from Flavio and may not even be out of hearing range, especially considering that he’s a robot, but it’ll have to be good enough.

“Are you sure we can trust him on this?”

I shrug carelessly. “I mean, I dunno. Could just be a friendly facade, so we’re definitely not letting him in… but I don’t think it would hurt to just talk to him, so long as we keep an eye on Santiago. It’s what I do most often, anyway. Talking to them is a good way to burn time.”

Miles sighs. “Alright, just checking in with what you thought. I’m… not really sure how to feel about all of this,” he admits.

“It’s not easy to get used to,” I agree. “I’m barely used to it, if you can say I’m used to it at all.”

“Alright, well… just tell me if he makes you uncomfortable,” he sighs concedingly, beginning to head back towards Flavio.

I chuckle as I follow him. “You’re not gonna be able to fight these things, you know. Punching them hurts like a bitch, see?” I point out, showing him my cherry red knuckles that resulted from the punch I gave Luciano last night.

He winces. “Point taken.”

“We’re back, Flavio,” I call out. “Is there… something you want to talk about in particular?”

The Italian Hetaloid perks up at the sound of my voice, having leaned his back against the window while Miles and I were talking.

“Oh, nothing much….”

**~ _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG, _DING_ DONG~**

Flavio was the first Hetaloid to seem really human, talking with us about his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, and whatnot, and the first 2p that I was sad to see walk back to the Hangar. He didn’t have any malicious intent—none at all!—and even if he did, he didn’t exactly have an opportunity to act on it. Didn’t try to make an opportunity for himself either, unlike Oliver. Maybe he really is just sincere.

I opened the door as soon as the bell rang, and Flavio happily waved goodbye to us as he stiffly walked down the hall. I don’t feel like the movement’s manual, so there must be something that forces the 2p’s back to the Hangar at six o’clock sharp.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Miles says as we head down towards the break room together.

“Yeah, amazingly. That is seriously the best night I’ve had all week,” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. It’s still sort of crazy to me that I got to spend this night talking rather than viscerally fearing for my life. “Though I doubt tomorrow night will be anywhere near as enjoyable. If anything, you should definitely be ready for hell.”

“I know.”

“Flavio’s usually not too bad, unless you insult him,” a voice pipes up, and I glance over to see Lovino scowling as he emerges from the bar. “You insult his suit one time and he’ll sic Santiago on your ass… but he’s fine, I guess, in comparison to the others.”

“But it gets a lot worse tomorrow night,” a second voice says sternly, and I realize I hadn’t heard this Hetaloid’s voice before. Ivan, the Russian Hetaloid. “I worry for you, подсолнух.”

“I’ll try my best,” is all I can manage to say in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> подсолнух = Sunflower (for those wondering)


	5. Night Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You return to the pizzeria for your fifth night, and you are beyond afraid. With your new information on Terence and with Miles' additional help, you hope to have everything under heel, but nothing in this pizzeria has ever worked like you'd hoped. You're ready for the very worst.
> 
> Edit: Chapter no longer cut in half lmao. The other chapters are actually pretty close in length so eh, what's a couple pages more than usual?

**Ten Thirty-Nine P.M.—Before Shift**

Getting out of bed was a bigger struggle than usual today, my muscles practically screaming in agony at every move. For whatever reason, I wasn’t very sore yesterday, but I’m _incredibly_ sore today, still feeling the aftermath of running away from Luciano through my entire body. While of course I’m glad that none of my injuries have been stitches-worthy yet, that doesn’t mean they don’t hurt like a bitch.

I was completely consumed in my thoughts during the drive there, though I tried not to think about what I might have to face tonight and instead focused on the brighter things. Miles is here with me, Flavio had an honest conversation with us last night, and this is obviously something survivable if Terence did it for weeks, even if in the end he did… die.

Or something. I still don’t know what happened to Terence, and even with that recording of his bones breaking under the force of that Hetaloid that attacked him, I still can’t say that that killed him. I mean, it wouldn’t be too hard to believe that that’s probably how it goes quite often, the night guards dying in this office. And the 2ps must do _something_ with the bodies, since several of them suggested that killing the night guard right off the bat isn’t generally normal. So the fact that Alfred _doesn’t know_ what happened to Terence even though he was definitely struck down in the office has to mean something.

The moon is out tonight, glaring down at me as I step out of my car. It’s nearly full, I think, and it calms me to look up at it. I won’t die tonight. I can’t let that happen.

“You’re here early,” Miles' charismatic voice pipes up as I walk up the steps towards the pizzeria.

I roll my eyes as I turn towards him. “It’s not _that_ early. I usually get here around eleven anyway. Plus, why are you here, then? Isn’t it a bit early for you too?”

Miles shrugs. “Oh, haha, nope! I work multiple shifts,” he explains cheerfully.

“You what now?!” I ask around a yawn. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

Again, he only gives me a shrug. “I dunno, not really. I love it here… er, well, a little less now with our nighttime situation, but y’know. And I really hate to see this place all torn up all the time, so I think I’d like to help you with your whole ‘figuring all this out’ mission.”

“Really? Gods, dude, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself for something like this,” I point out.

“Neither do you, (Y/N), and yet here you are. You didn’t even work for this place before taking the night shift, so you don’t have anything to lose in losing this place,” Miles retorts, and I look towards the floor as a blush spreads across my cheeks. “Maybe you do have a good reason, I dunno, but just because my reason is my nostalgia for this old place doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put just as much effort into it, right?”

I sigh deeply, trying to keep ahold of myself, but in my sleep-deprived state I’ve become a bit of an emotional mess. “N… no, there’s not really any other reason. I guess maybe I’m just worried that I’ll die without having done anything, and so whenever a problem presents itself… I latch on like that might do something for me,” I admit, folding my arms around myself as I lean against the wall. “I dunno, something’s going on. Something a lot deeper than manic robots. Something Oliver said to me… that’s what really stuck with me.”

“He said I worked for the man that imprisoned them,” I say, and Miles pauses, curiosity spreading through his features. “And I never really managed to figure out what he meant by that, but it can’t be nothing. There’s someone at the root of the problem. I just… don’t know who they are.”

“We should…,” Miles starts, cutting off to glance over his shoulder. “Y’know, it’s probably best that we get inside before we talk about this, right?” I suppose I hadn’t considered that, but I nod in agreement, following him into the building all the way to our tiny little panic box of an office. I sit down across from Miles, fidgeting with my hands all the while, and Miles even shuts the doors for increased privacy while we have an unlimited reservoir of power.

“Do you think… Oliver was talking about our boss?” Miles suggests, and a wave of horrible similar to the one I felt last night, when Miles realized the similarity between Terence and me, rushes over me. I understand why he wanted to talk about this inside, though.

“Would it be?” I ask back. “I’ve never met him before—I haven’t even heard the man’s voice! Do you… do you really think someone would purposefully do this to robots and then continue to let them function in a restaurant meant for little kids? Gods, that’s practically begging for at least a dozen lawsuits.”

Miles shrugs. “Well, maybe it wasn’t on purpose. That’s always a possibility. I mean, your robots start malfunctioning—what _do_ you do? If you have any sort of bond with them, I doubt you’d want to just trash them. Either you’d try to fix them up, or just store them away forever until they become antiques, long-forgotten by practically everyone except you. Maybe that was the intention,” Miles points out.

“Maybe… but how did it end up like this, then?” I reply. “I mean, these robots are _very_ intentionally trying to tear our guts out. They want to hurt us, they want to fuck us up, they want to _fuck_ us. How do you end up with robots that want to do that?”

“Hey, D- dammit,” Miles snaps, breaking off when he nearly calls me ‘Doll’ again. “It’s just a theory, I guess. I mean, I’m as blind in this as you are, really.”

I sigh heavily. “I know, I just…. I wish I could actually ask the 2ps what’s going on and I wish they would actually _answer_ me without changing the subject or whatever. I mean, most often I’m trying to talk to them with the threat of death looming heavily on my back but, I mean, you were there for Flavio. You saw how he talked! They avoid questions like it’s the flu, I swear.”

Miles hums to himself for a moment. “Well, you know how the G8 can’t come off the stage, the Bar Hetaloids can’t leave the bar, and everyone else is in the closet all night? What if they’re just… programmed to not tell you anything straight forward?” he offers.

That is possible, but… “But who would program something like that into a robot? That wouldn’t be good for kids or anything! God, I just- I’m sorry. I know you don’t know. This whole debacle’s just really frustrating, if I’m being honest,” I explain, running my palms over my forehead before combing my fingers through my hair.

“Don’t worry about it,” Miles reassures. “It’s frustrating me too. Especially since-”

 **One Hundred Percent Power**  
**Twelve o’Clock A.M.**

Miles cuts off mid-sentence as the bell rings through the building, sounding somber and hollow as the building shuts into power-saving mode. “Since the night’s about to start,” he finishes, sighing. “Alright, let’s get to work,” he continues, quickly opening the office doors to save power. I watch him move, my fingers tapping along the edge of my tablet as I pick it up, and my mind races all the while.

I can’t believe it’s already Friday. I didn’t even think I would survive Oliver, and yet here I am, not only having survived that British nymph, but also having lived through Allen, James, and Luciano. My entire body aches and to be quite honest I feel like utter shit, but having Miles here really does help me feel a bit better about our situation. I don’t know who we’re going to have to face today, but I believe that somehow we’ll be able to do it. We’ll be able to survive.

“Are you okay?” Miles asks me, his voice soft, and my head jerks up at the sound of his voice.

“What? Oh, yeah,” I mutter, realizing I had paused in my movements of picking up my tablet and forgot to turn it on. “I was just… thinking.”

“I bet. You’ve been through a lot of shit,” he points out. “Just try to take it easy, okay?”

I smile sadly. “I wish I could, but I doubt I’ll be able to,” I sigh. “Plus, I know that we can do this, even if I’m afraid. I mean, we _have_ to do this, don’t we?” Even if Miles doesn’t feel like he _has_ to do this, I know I do. For Alfred. For the rest of the Hetaloids. For Terence, most of all.

Miles shrugs. “I mean, I…. I guess I don’t have a great grasp on what facing these Hetaloids is actually going to be like,” he confesses. “Obviously Flavio wasn’t any sort of a challenge, but the way you looked after facing Luciano… and what happened to Terence… well, clearly these things are quite capable of hurting us. And from what you’ve told me, they’re pretty capable of breaking in here, too,” he adds, sending a weary glance towards the office doors.

“Do you think this night’ll be worse than Wednesday?” he asks hesitantly.

To be honest, I hadn’t considered it. After the shit that I went through with Luciano… well, I suppose I feel like there’s nothing that could top that in atrocity. But I shouldn’t think like that—it could easily get me killed.

“I don’t know,” I admit, though by now my mind has drifted from the conversation. Terence disappeared on his last night here, and that Hetaloid that attacked him broke the door down in one or two hits. If _that’s_ the monster we have to face tonight, then it really will be so much worse. Now that I think about it, though, Terence seemed to know I’d be facing off against Luciano on Wednesday. He didn’t directly warn me about Oliver or Allen and James, sure, but the fact that he was sure Luciano would appear on Wednesday is chilling.

“Maybe.”

Miles lets out a heavy sigh and I lift up my tablet, finally flicking it on. I’m not too worried about anyone coming out within the first hour, but just in case I have to check around. It’s become such a habit, such an ingrained reflex—part of my muscle memory, even—to flip through the cameras every few minutes that I don’t think I can help it.

 **The Stage** —No one’s on the stage, as expected.  
**West Hall** —Empty, for now  
**East Hall** —The lights are flickering. A power malfunction?  
**Closet** —The Maintenance and Server Hetaloids reside as usual, but all of them are awake this time.

 **Party Room** —Darker than I remember it being. It’s hard to see any sort of details.  
**The Bar** —The Bar Hetaloids are awake, though unlike usual they aren’t messing around or even talking.  
**Backstage** —The G8 are the same as all the others, awake and chillingly silent.  
**Doppelgänger Hangar** —Standing dormant, as usual. I hate even looking at it.

“Woah, what’s up with the Hetaloids?” Miles asks, apparently just coming upon either the Backstage area or the Closet.

“I dunno. They tend to turn on when they’re nervous but… usually they’re talking. Or doing something. I’ve never seen them as rigid as this,” I admit, my voice shaking a little. I’m more scared than I’d care to say, though I’m sure it’s not hard for Miles to tell.

“That’s… probably not good, is it?” Miles asks nervously, clearing his throat as he switches the camera again.

I don’t answer him, but the implications are plain and obvious in the heavy air. Not at all.

It’s weird not hearing the phone ring as it did for the past four days, and my heart aches when I think about Terence. I wish someone had helped him if he really was still alive back there. I wish someone was brave enough to stay around and survive long enough to have helped Terence within a week or so of his kidnapping, but I know that’s not an easy thing to ask.

This job is literal hell. It’s asking you to risk your life, something you didn’t even consent to whilst signing up. It’s a heavy burden to take on so suddenly, so I understand why a lot of people would quit out of fear or stress if they didn’t die on the first night. There’s no way to prepare for this type of hell.

“Do you think there’s any way Terence is still alive?” I ask, thinking out loud.

Miles glances towards me, and even though I can’t see his face at the angle I have my head bowed, I know his expression is one of pity. “Probably not, (Y/N),” he admits. “It’s been close to a year… and anyway, who knows what they did to him.”

I sigh. “I know. There’s just… so much I want to ask him, so much I want to say to him.”

“I know,” Miles agrees. “There’s a lot of things I could ask him as well, especially concerning the things he said last night. I know this is probably different than what you mean, but I want to ask him about his research and those… numbers.”

I blink in surprise, having forgotten about that part of last night’s recording. “Numbers?”

“Yeah.” Miles rolls his sleeve up his elbow, showing me the inside of his wrist. He has written the numbers **18 46 93 42** in bold sharpie. “I dunno, Terence told us to remember them, so I thought maybe they were important for something.”

I chuckle. “Oh man, I completely forgot that part of it all. How did you remember them with all the shit that we heard last night?”

Miles shrugs. “More luck than anything else, really. I happen to be impeccable when it comes to memorizing numbers, so they stuck with me more than anything else he said,” Miles explains casually, almost as if it was nothing, but really he could’ve saved us a whole lot of trouble. I’m not sure what the numbers are for, obviously, but they could be for everything from a code to a secret password.

“Happen to still have that sharpie?” I ask, partly joking.

“Yeah, it’s in my pocket!” Miles responds happily, flipping the thick black sharpie out of his pocket and taking the cap off. “Er, you do want me to write the numbers on you too, right?”

“Yeah. Who knows, they might come in handy,” I point out, extending my arm to him. He quickly writes the numbers down, imprinting the **18 46 93 42** onto my arm. They’re the last words Terence ever said, and now they’re written onto my skin. Hell, I’m probably going to get this tattooed on my arm if I come out of here alive.

Here’s to hoping.

 **Seventy-Eight Percent Power**  
**Two Thirty-Four A.M.**

We fell into an uncomfortable silence after about an hour of chatting to distract ourselves from the mind-numbing boredom, now only exchanging a word or two as we flip through our tablet screens. The Hetaloids of the night are bound to come after us at any moment, and even though neither of us have spoken about it, it’s quite obvious that we both know it’s coming.

In fact, based on the trend over the last week, the Hetaloids should’ve already come out by now. This one’s already later than Flavio was! My arms ache from holding my tablet up with such stressed muscles, and Miles’ is so tensed up in apprehension, I can see the definition of his arms.

All of a sudden, a piercing _**BANG** _sounds throughout the entire building, shaking the wall I’m leaning against. I sit up quickly, my gaze meeting Miles’ equally horrified expression.

Without a moment to waste, we jump onto our tablets and race to figure out what the noise was.

 **The Stage** —Every single one of the G8 are out onstage, looks of unease on their faces  
**West Hall** —Empty as ever  
**East Hall** —The lights are flickering badly  
**Closet** —I’ve never seen animatronics shift this much. They’re milling around like ants.

“This isn’t good,” I point out. “The Hetaloids are restless. This means… this is _really_ bad.” Miles nods stiffly at my words, gulping heavily. He knew that without me having to say it, but hearing it out loud probably just confirmed what he feared.

 **Party Room** —………..  
**The Bar** —The Bar Hetaloids are all clustered at the entrance, watching  
**Backstage** —For once, not a single animatronic is back here

Miles looks over my shoulder anxiously as my finger moves to the button for the Doppelganger Hangar, hesitating. I’m not ready to see the destruction that produced such a loud, chilling crash, but I might never be and we need to know what we’re dealing with. Taking a deep breath, I press the icon.

 **Doppelgänger Hangar** —The entrance has been torn apart.

Not just the entrance, in fact. The entire area around the curtain has been ripped to bits as well, pieces of metal and carpet laying everywhere. It’d be pretty easy to convince me that a bomb went off in our building if I didn’t know what the 2ps were capable of. But at the same time, a 2p did _that_ sort of damage?! How the _fuck_ did Terence ever survive any of this bullshit?! And moreover… how the fuck are _we_ supposed to survive through this?!

Without a moment to lose, I quickly switch over to the party room to hopefully get a look at the culprit. My blood freezes upon seeing him, recognizing who he must be immediately despite the fuzzy look of the camera. While sure, his light brown hair and reserved stance aren’t usual for the upbeat Hetaloid, there’s no mistaking that coat no matter what the colour scheme is. That’s Russia’s 2p.

 _That’s_ the 2p that killed Terence.

“M… Miles,” I breathe out, so terrified I barely make a noise as I grab onto Miles’ arm. “That’s….”

“The one that got Terence…,” Miles continues, finishing my sentence for me. There’s just as much fright in his voice as there is in mine.

“Wh-what do we even do? If he can knock down the door so easily, then…,” I trail off, fear clouding my mind, and I actually find that I’m just about to cry. The 2p casts a dark glance at the Hetaloids on the stage before sweeping his gaze around to the bar to send a sharp glare in their direction—likely sending a message to stay out of the way. Finally, he looks up towards the camera we’re watching him through, his red eyes piercing straight into my soul. My throat twists into a knot.

Miles takes a deep breath, struggling to not hyperventilate. “B-but we have time, right? It takes them a while to get in, right?” he asks me, sounding more panicked than any sort of reassuring.

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper as I watch the 2p head out of the Party Room and down towards the West hall. “I don’t know anything about this guy and… I don’t know. Do you think he’ll listen if we start talking to him?”

“Judging by what he did to Terence…,” Miles points out. “Probably not.”

“God… goddammit, this isn’t enough time,” I mutter to myself. How the _hell_ did Terence survive weeks here if he faced this guy more than once before dying to him? Or maybe he just got lucky, and the 2ps were nice enough to him that he managed to survive. At this point I’ve managed to piss off about half of the Hetaloids I’ve met, so if anything I’ve definitely made a bad impression on them. Is that why this is happening? Is it all my fault?

“(Y/N). (Y/N)!” Miles shouts, jolting me out of my trance as he shakes my shoulder. “Stand up. He’s here.”

Right on cue, just as I’m jumping out of my seat, there’s a soft knock from the door.

“Knock knock. It’s time for you to go,” a heavy Russian voice announces, eerily robotic, and I feel my gut churn. That’s the exact voice that threatened Terence over the phone call. Of course I should’ve expected it, but it’s still incredibly jarring to hear.

“Before… before we go, can we at least know your name?” I ask, my voice trembling.

The Hetaloid pauses, seeming a little taken aback by this. “You do not care for my name, do you? You only want to stay here.”

I sigh. “Okay, you are kind of right about that,” I admit. “But don’t you want to talk? I want to understand what’s going on here,” I explain, struggling to push down the rock of fear in my stomach. “And I want to understand you. I want to understand what made you kill Terence.”

“My name… is Viktor,” the Hetaloid responds stoically. “And Terence… the engineer? I did not kill him.”

At his words, I fall silent. I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed that Viktor killed Terence on the spot in this office, even though it sounded like he may have. But if he didn’t kill Terence… then what _did_ he do with him? Take the poor man back to the Hangar to suffer the wrath of the others? Or… something else?

Viktor knocks on the door again, a bit more harshly this time. “Knock. Knock. It is _time_ for you to go,” he repeats.

I glance towards Miles, feeling my stomach trip over itself. It’s not like we’re just going to let Viktor in, but I don’t know if running is worth it. Terence warned me that Luciano was fast, but he didn’t get to warn us about Viktor. Viktor’s a wild card as far as I know, and that makes me feel a lot worse. I had time to think about how to deal with Luciano, I had methods to employ while running from him.

But in the face of Viktor? I have nothing.

“We are going now,” Viktor snarls, and suddenly a black-gloved fist shoves its way through the door. I scream in terror, leaping back like a cat with its hackles raised. A second fist breaches the metal and the two work together to literally tear the door to pieces right in front of our eyes.

Miles grabs my arm as he carefully backs out into the East Hall, terror written over every single one of his details as Viktor rips the thick metal door apart like it’s made of paper. Having created a passable entrance, he then walks through the doorway, not even bothering to step over the metal scraps and instead literally crushing them under his feet as he glowers at us. His red eyes are even more piercing in person than they were through the camera, pinning me in place.

“Time to go, да?” he growls, coming ever closer with a shining sickle gripped tight in his fist. Gods, he’s going to kill us just like he killed Terence, isn’t he?

Miles is the first to scream. “Fuck, (Y/N), RUN!” he shouts, suddenly taking off down the hall with my arm in his grasp. There’s a rush of air behind me as we just barely avoid the first swipe of Viktor’s sickle, and that alone shocks me back into action.

The 2p’s footsteps are heavy, practically shaking the ground under our feet as he runs after us in heavy pursuit, and already I find it hard to keep going. How are we supposed to win this when we’ve basically already lost? How do we survive four more hours with a blood-hungry and violent Hetaloid breathing down our necks?

We run out into the Party Room in a hurry, and it’s at that moment, as I’m looking at all the anxious Hetaloids gathered around to watch the grand finale, that I realize there’s still a way for us to make it out. Or, at least… one of us.

“Miles, we need to split up!” I shout, hopping over a table as we careen through the Party Room. Viktor practically walks straight through the table, not slowing down for a moment. “You need to get out of here, so you can live! I’ll distract Viktor, okay? I’ve done this before, I’ll be fine!”

“What?!” Miles screams, still holding onto my arm quite tightly as we dash around the room, avoiding swipes and swings from Viktor. “You’re telling me to abandon you?!”

“Yes! It’s the only way that at least one of us will get out of here!” I explain, struggling to pull my arm away from him. “I’m the one who’s been making things difficult! I’m the one that’s been pissing off the 2ps! If anyone should have to pay for that, it should be me, not you!” I cry out, but Mike still doesn’t let me go.

Suddenly, a sharp pain bursts in my right side, wrenching my arm out of Miles’ grasp and sending me sprawling into the nearby chairs and tables with a resounding crash. _Viktor caught up. I couldn’t even save Miles_. My head spins as Miles lets out a scream, but through my blurry vision, I can see Viktor approaching me, not him. Miles stands far off, staring in horror at the scene before him, and I will him to turn back, to run away, to save himself, but he doesn’t.

“You fuckin’ piece of scrap garbage!” Miles yells angrily as Viktor draws ever closer to my limp body, jumping onto the Hetaloid’s back, but he barely manages to hinder Viktor.

“Miles, no!” I scream, struggling to stand up, but my legs very nearly collapse right out from under me. I’m weak from the past nights, weak from all of the running and the stress of trying to keep myself alive in a place built to kill people. I’m in no situation to fight, but that doesn’t mean Miles is either.

“RUN (Y/N)!” Miles yelps as Viktor shakes him around like a ragdoll, grappling with the much stronger Hetaloid to keep his grip around his neck. “I’ve got this, you need to-”

Miles is cut off as Viktor finally manages to grab the man by the back of his uniform, flinging him across the room. He hits the floor hard, and I’m horrified to see that he doesn’t even attempt to get back up. _No! Is Miles… dead?_

“You,” Viktor growls, and my head snaps up in terror. As much as I want to worry about Miles right now, I have a much bigger problem on my hands: namely, the killer robot standing less than ten feet away from me. “You’re not easy to take. Depressed, anxious, an abnormal brain. All complications in the process. Why do you fight to survive so desperately when you know that I will always win in the end?”

I stare at the Hetaloid, unable to meet his soul-piercing crimson gaze. “Because I feel like I have to,” I state simply. “Not just for my own sake, but for the sake of all the Hetaloids in this building.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow, his grip on his scythe tightening. “ _All_ of them?”

“Yes,” I tell him, and finally I can bring myself to look him in the eyes. “Even you.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, glaring at me suspiciously. “A shame, then,” Viktor grumbles, and my eyes widen as he suddenly leaps towards me, sickle shimmering in the red light of his eyes. I leap backwards, just barely avoiding my stomach spilling open, and without another moment of thought, I turn tail and run.

Dammit. I had been hoping it would be Miles who survived this since I’m far more deserving to die at the hands of the 2ps. If he’s really dead, though, then I have to live. For Alfred. For Terence. And maybe for Miles too.

 **??? Percent Power**  
**??? A.M.**

If Viktor’s anything, he’s certainly persistent. I can’t lose him, no matter what I try! And to make matters worse, I’m tiring fast. I’ve been running around for… maybe close to an hour now? It’s hard to tell, but the strain I’ve been putting on my body is making me weak in the knees and sick to my stomach. If I don’t find a place to rest soon, I’m going to collapse right then and there. Hell, at this rate Viktor might not even have to kill me himself.

Viktor has no restraint as he chases after me like a hound, swinging his scythe with reckless abandon. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s absolutely destroying the pizzeria; tearing the carpets to shred, breaking tables in half, and creating huge dents and holes in the walls. All he seems to care about at this moment is catching me, and maybe even killing me.

Thankfully, I’ve realized by now that Miles couldn’t have died just from being thrown across the room, but my worry that he may be seriously injured keeps me from staying in the party room for long. I need to keep Viktor’s attention on me.

I take a quick right turn out of the employee break room after leading Viktor around and sprint, feeling my legs ache and hurt with every step, and nearly run straight into a wall. Letting out a terrified scream as I fall back onto my ass, I’m surprised to hear the door slam shut behind me.

Fearing that I’ve been trapped, I glance backwards, my eyes wide as I look around the dimly lit room. It looks like… an office? It’s awfully similar to the night guard’s office, save for the obvious lack of human disturbance in the last few years, evident by the layer of dust covering nearly everything.

Well, except for one thing. There’s a filing cabinet with its labels wiped clean of dust. Not to mention there are smudges around the handles that suggest that they’ve been opened recently.

I take a quick glance over my shoulder, looking around the small empty room once again. Where am I? I’ve never seen any other doors in the building before, and yet this one looks like a classic wooden front door—out of place in a building full of such advanced technology. Frankly, I’m just surprised I managed to get away from Viktor by running into this tiny room. He was right on my tail for so long, only inches from slicing me to pieces if he so chose, but now it seems like he has just disappeared.

Did our shift end, forcing Viktor to head back to the hangar? I swear I would’ve heard that, though, since the chimes have always rung through the entire building.

Whatever happened… I need to see what’s in these filing cabinets, if they’re the only thing in this room that’s been bothered recently. There’s got to be a reason I didn’t know about this room, right? Forcing myself back to my feet, I struggle to ignore the aching of my muscles as I hobble towards the cabinet.

‘ _Employees_ ’ the filing cabinets read, each label the same besides the capital letters denoting which last names are in each cabinet. I raise an eyebrow. Is this where they keep our files and paperwork? It seems odd to leave them in such a strange and remote place, not to mention an abandoned one. If anything, that points even more towards there being something in here that shouldn’t be seen.

I pull open the first filing cabinet and shuffle through. My first objective is to find Terence’s file—unfortunately, that’s not going to be easy considering I don’t know his last name. It takes me nearly ten minutes of intense concentration, flipping through each name and studying it carefully, before I finally find Terence’s file. I even find my file before his, though to be fair I knew where to look for it. Additionally, I manage to find Miles’ on the way.

I set the three thin folders down on the dust-littered desk, picking up Terence’s to read first.

An old photo lies neatly at the top of his file, displaying a grinning man with dark skin, bright green eyes, and curly black hair. The picture is weathered, more than I would’ve expected for presumably only having lived here for about a year.

Sighing, I gently take the picture out and set it down on the table. His information file is what I was interested in.

 

> **Name: Terence Samuels**  
>  **Age: 25**  
>  **Occupation: Nightguard**  
>  **Education: Master’s Degree In Engineering**  
>  **Condition: Acceptable**  
>  **Status: Transferred**

I raise an eyebrow. What does  _transferred_  mean? Is it supposed to indicate that Terence was relocated to a different location? Because I know for a fact that he never got to leave this building. Viktor attacked him! Even if Viktor didn’t kill him directly, as the 2p claims, there’s no way that Terence is still alive now.

My curiosity growing, I flip open my file. The picture of me is there, the same one I submitted only weeks ago, but I flip by it quickly.

 

> **Name: (Y/N) (L/N)**  
>  **Age: 24**  
>  **Occupation: Nightguard**  
>  **Education: ???**  
>  **Condition: Acceptable**  
>  **Status: Target Transfer**

That’s even more concerning than just seeing that Terence allegedly  _has_  been transferred. They want to ‘transfer’ me? What does that even mean? Is that why they’ve sent Viktor after me on my first week, no less?

Feeling rather frazzled, I flip to the final file. Miles’ file.

 

> **Name: Miles Tennerson**  
>  **Age: 25**  
>  **Occupation: Former Dayguard, Nightguard**  
>  **Education: Master’s Degree In Electrical Engineering**  
>  **Condition: Optimal**  
>  **Status: Target Transfer**

Oh. Oh no. Suddenly it’s so much clearer why Viktor was sent after us today. There’s two of us that they want to ‘transfer,’ whatever that might mean, here at the same time. Even if they can’t catch both of us, I suppose they have a better chance of at least being able to get one of us. And if that’s the case then… oh shit. I never should have left Miles behind.

My mind racing, I slip our files out of their folders and haphazardly shove them into my jacket pockets as I race to the door. Horror fills me as the door doesn’t budge at first no matter how hard I slam my shoulder into it, but thankfully, after a few moments the surprisingly heavy wooden door does start to open. I still have time. As I make more progress, forcing my way out into the employee break room, I realize exactly why I never saw the door before—from the outside, it completely blends in with the wall.

Slipping out of my momentary safe haven, I take a quick glance around. There are no signs of Viktor, not even the sound of his heavy footsteps, but that doesn’t mean all’s well. I can only hope that Miles is okay.

Carefully emerging into the Party Room, I feel my stomach drop upon seeing that Miles isn’t in the place I left him. To be fair, he was sort of left out here by himself and would’ve been incredibly vulnerable if Viktor had come back, so I wouldn’t blame him for moving himself… but I have a sickening feeling that he  _didn’t_  move by himself. Someone moved him.

My ears perk as the sound of heavy metallic footsteps resonates from some ways off. I spin on my heel, my eyes immediately directing me towards the West Hall, and I realize that Viktor must be coming from there.

The Hetaloid emerges, a rather grim expression on his face. There’s blood on his sickle now. “You’re back out to play again,” he notes bluntly.

I stand my ground as he comes closer, growing nervous. “What was that room? How did I get in there?”

He smirks. “Just a little something to get you poking around where you shouldn’t be. Something as simple as an open door can do a lot to encourage curiosity. Now you know the truth, I presume. Read your own file. Read the man’s file. You know what will happen to you both, and for that reason, I cannot you leave.”

At the mention of Miles, I stiffen, caring much more for my missing companion than myself at the moment. “The man? You mean Miles? Yeah, uh, where  _is_  he?” I ask sharply, glaring him down.

“The transferring process takes time,” Viktor responds simply, almost ignoring my question. “You will not find him to stop it. You will not find him at all. You won’t leave this room, even, if I can help it,” Viktor growls, and my eyes widen with renewed terror. They’re going to try and transfer me too. I don’t know  _what_  that means yet, but I know it isn’t anything good. I know it killed Terence, or at the very least he died afterwards.

I need to save Miles, but I can’t save him if I haven’t even saved myself.

Viktor snaps into action before I can completely clear my thoughts, forcing me to bounce away from his scythe haphazardly. I trip over my own feet in a dumb twist of luck, stumbling to the ground. Viktor lets out a roar as I turn onto my back, just managing to spot the trajectory of his sickle in time to avoid being speared through the eye.

My body contorts as I wriggle away from Viktor, and he grunts in frustration. His scythe has imbedded into the ground and he seems rather occupied with getting it unstuck, giving me time to run away.

Just when I think I’ve made it to some form of safety, however, scrambling to my feet as freedom gets closer and closer, I feel a heavy metal fist slam into my back. I’m sent sprawling, my breath fleeing my chest as I land hard on my side, sputtering. Within an instant, Viktor’s practically back on top of me, this time planting his large metal boot on my stomach to stop me from squirming away again.

“Do not make this difficult. You know this is unavoidable,” Viktor snarls in that robotic voice of his, his crimson eyes alight with fury. I let out a hoarse breath of a whimper, struggling under his weight.

He kneels down on top of me, huffing out warm breaths straight into my face that show how hard his inner servers are working. “It’s time for you to go, (Y/N).” Without hesitation, he reaches down quickly and pins me by my throat, making it even more difficult to get my breath back. I let out a ghost of a cry, struggling to pull his hand away from my neck, but his grip is stiffer than steel.

As I quite literally fight for my breath, Viktor only constricts his hold, closing my airways and making me feel light headed. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t  _breathe_!

Just as black spots are beginning to dance on the edge of my vision, my lungs heaving painfully with the vain wish to receive a new breath of air, Viktor stops. His grip completely loosens, and I draw in frantic, relieved but confused gasps.  _What happened? Why did he stop? Surely he doesn't think I'm unconscious yet!_

“Let. Them. Go,” a soft voice demands from behind Viktor, and even though I can’t see him I recognize the voice of Kiku. I don’t know what he’s doing, but judging by how tense Viktor has become, his words aren't without threat.

Very slowly, Viktor removes his hand from my neck, even shifting his weight over me.

“Now step off, asshole,” Alfred growls next, more fury in his words than I’ve heard from most human beings. Viktor’s eyes flash angrily even as he stares straight ahead, but finally he lets out a heavy sigh. His knuckles creaking as he grips his fists into tight balls, Viktor deliberately stands off of my body and steps back, finally allowing me room to breathe.

Hands on my shoulders draw my attention to Ludwig and Feliciano, who hurriedly help me to my feet now that Viktor’s distracted.

“You went against your programming,” Viktor hisses, his voice full of venom.

“Yeah,” Alfred snaps, grinning with vivid determination. “We had some help.” At his words, a Hetaloid I’ve never seen before comes hobbling forward. Creaking gears, rusting metal, and limbs that much more resemble human bones rather than a robotic endoskeleton make it clear that it’s not as advanced as the others, but something about the shape of the face, about the kind green eyes, about the curly brown hair framing its face strikes deep down into me.  _That’s Terence._

Viktor whips around at the sight of the new Hetaloid, his arms shaking. “You  _traitor_ …,” he hisses.

“You  _killed_  me, Viktor,” the robot says, and sure enough his voice is identical to Terence’s—it even still sounds like he’s talking through that old dial phone in the office. “I never owed anything to you or any of the others. Especially not you.”

“Frankly, I can’t let this carnage continue. Not even in the wake of my own death, or with this fragile junk you gave me for a body,” Terence continues, gesturing to himself. “For a long time, I was too afraid to do anything. But (Y/N) gave me a chance, and now I’m going to make this right again.” His eyes twinkle as he mentions my name, and for a moment I’m overcome with emotion. I spent all my time hoping I could save Terence, but in the end, it seems he’s saving me.

Viktor’s expression barely changes as Terence speaks, his fists clenched as far as he can clench them. He’s furious, but he knows he’s outnumbered like this.

Suddenly, someone is laughing, and I feel my heart seize in my chest as I recognize that voice all too well. “Well, that’s quite a show we’ve got going on here, hm?” Luciano taunts, and my hair stands on end as I turn to meet him with a cautious glare. Most of the 2ps I’ve met throughout the week, plus several more I haven’t, are standing beside him in the destroyed entrance to the hangar.

“Our little engineer trying to start some sort of scene, our friends from the stage breaking  _all_  protocols, and most importantly our determined damning darling,” he snarls, his eyes glued to me. I gulp, feeling faint.

At the sight of his compatriots, Viktor jumps into action before anyone can react.

There’s a dull thump as Terence’s robotic head falls to his feet, followed by a thunderous crash as his body comes tumbling after. The room lands in stagnant water as we all fall silent, staring at the once-again lifeless body of Terence.

Alfred’s expression morphs from one of grief, to horror, to anger as he looks between Terence and Viktor. “You son of a star-spangled bitch!” he shouts, bridging the distance between him and the 2p in a single stride. Metal crumples under Alfred’s fist as he punches Viktor in the chest, and I’m actually frightened to see that his arm goes all the way through.

“Alfred you-” Arthur shouts, rushing into the room from backstage. He stops in his tracks, eyes wide with fright. “Well shit, now you’ve gone and done it,” he mutters.

Luciano chuckles. “He sure has. I hope you boys are ready to play~” he jeers. Immediately, the other 2ps rush out in a flood of glinting eyes and metal limbs, weapons flying out of holsters as they whoop excitedly. Most of the other Hetaloids have emerged onto the stage by now, and judging by the looks on their faces, they were  _not_  expecting this. It’s clear even to me—they’re outnumbered.

Viktor falls to the ground with a heavy metallic clang as Alfred finally removes his fist, spasming and glitching as he struggles to stay awake. Then, the room bursts into absolute chaos as the two waves meet each other beginning with Allen slamming straight into Alfred.

The pair fly back almost explosively, hitting the ground hard and digging deep gouges in the carpeted floor. I easily lose track of the two in the robotic turmoil.

Ludwig’s face pales as several 2ps run straight for our group, quickly shoving Feliciano and I behind him with one hand. “You need to get into the hangar!” he shouts to me, rising to block Lutz’ first punch. The sound of the fight is deafening around me, and I can barely think, much less hear Ludwig.

“What?!” I yell, straining to raise my voice over the noise.

“Your friend’s in the hangar! You need to get to him, or he’ll die!” He screams, struggling to keep Lutz at bay. I don’t have a lot of time.

I nearly trip over myself again as we turn to run, my limbs numb from strain. Feliciano struggles to help me to my feet, barely seeming strong enough to support me despite being the same type of robot that just punched through Viktor’s chest. Using Feli as a leverage, I manage to push myself back up, but I’m weakening every moment as the adrenaline I had gained whilst running from Viktor begins to drain away.

“Go! Go, (Y/N)!” Feliciano yells, pushing me towards the hangar. My legs hurt more than words can express, but I know I need to run just one last time. I take off, Feliciano in tow as we worm through the crowd.

We burst out of the edge of the fight, gasping for breath like we’re breaching a river. I try to stop for a breather and Feliciano quickly grabs my wrist, pulling me along behind him. I would thank him if I could bring myself to speak, because we really can’t afford to stop moving. Even a moment of standing still could be the death of me.

“Good luck, ragazza. Act fast. Get in and get out. I believe in you!” Feliciano cheers as we finally reach the hangar, and I turn to look at him.

“You can’t come with me?” I ask. Feliciano might not be even a vague definition of badass, but if he leaves me, then I’ll actually be alone in my quest to save Miles.

He shrugs sadly. “Programming. Now, save your friend.”

I nod sharply, but as soon as I turn back towards the hangar, I feel my blood run cold.

“Where do you think you’re going, Lucciola?” Luciano purrs in that terribly condescending voice of his. I was so worried about getting to the hangar, I forgot to watch for the 2ps. “Surely you weren’t trying to drag your little friend into this mess when we haven’t even gotten started~” he snarls, striding towards us as we try to back away from him. Feliciano squeezes my arm, whimpering.

There’s nowhere for us to go except back into the fight, but I need to get into the hangar or Miles is going to die. I need to stand my ground.

“Luciano, please!” Feliciano exclaims suddenly, shoving himself in front of me. Despite being taller than his 2p, Feli looks all the more fragile. “Don’t hurt them! You don’t have to do this!”

Luciano clenches his teeth at Feliciano’s words, narrowing his eyes. “Get out of my way,” he barks.

Trembling like a terrified dog, Feliciano holds his ground. “No, Luciano. I can’t. They haven’t done anything to you, and neither has the other guard! No one’s done anything to you for the longest time! I know taking your frustration out on the nightguard is the easiest option, but you know it’s not a solution!” he yells, and I’m actually a little taken aback by how mature he sounds.

For a few solid moments, Luciano just stares at his double with glowering magenta eyes, and Feliciano doesn’t move. I find myself frozen as well, unsure of what my next move should be.

Feliciano lets out a sigh. “Run, (Y/N),” he orders, and then he leaps at Luciano.

My body jumps into action before I can fully take in the scene before me, weaving around Luciano as Feliciano pummels him into the ground. The 2p lets out an enraged yell as I rush by the pair, sprinting into the Hangar like my life depends on it.

Immediately, it’s like I’ve passed through a wall of suffocating quiet. Even with the Hangar’s entrance destroyed, the fight sounds distant, like a far off nightmare.

A staircase descends in front of me, leading into impenetrable inky blackness. There’s not a sound, not even the slightest hint of a whisper, from downstairs, and just looking causes my heart to beat hard in my chest. But I can’t afford to be cowardly right now, no matter how scared I am. I can’t afford to worry about stumbling around in the dark and perhaps even being unable to find Miles. I can’t afford to worry about the other 2ps that I know must be down here, waiting for me.

My footsteps are dulled and faint as I begin to head down the stairs, a feeling like cinder blocks coming over my shoulders. The air is heavy with static tension, and I almost find myself struggling to breathe. What sort of hell is this? Will I even be able to find Miles down here?

I exit the staircase stumbling, my lungs writhing in my chest as I struggle to process the air I’m taking in. The room around me is pitch black and impossible to see through, though at least the absence of light means the absence of any possibly violent 2ps. I draw in another shaky breath and very nearly collapse onto my knees, my head spinning. There’s nothing for me here, no one that can help me. They’ve left me to struggle alone.

Suddenly, there’s a hand grasping the front of my shirt, an arm wrapping around my shoulders. I panic, but I barely have enough energy left to struggle. The arm lug me to my feet and shove something over my mouth.

A breath of fresh air is all it takes to stop my struggling. Whoever this is… is helping me?

Regaining my senses, I turn to face whoever may have helped me. Even though I can’t see anything else, the soft lilac glow of tired eyes tells me who it is immediately.

“James?” I say hopefully, my voice muffled by the breathing mask he fitted over my face.

The lilac lights bob gently. “(Y/N),” he greets back.

I’m silent for a moment, my brain sluggish now that it finally has air to breathe again. “You’re… helping me?” I ask.

James sighs, laughing bitterly. “Yeah, I guess that is what I’m doing, huh? Who would’ve thought that you’d turn me…,” he spits, but he doesn’t sound all that angry. “What you said back there… well, I’m sorry we tried to kill you like that. Because what you said really reached Allen and I. We decided we were gonna help you… if you made it to the last night. ‘S why that numbskull Allen tried to warn you about Luciano in the worst way possible.”  _So he was warning me._  I nearly forgot about all that.

“This might be against our better judgement. I honestly don’t know if you’ll be able to do shit,” James admits, but something about his bluntness is nearly comforting. “But Allen went out there to leaven Luciano’s suspicion, and near everyone else who stayed in here doesn’t care enough to hurt you, so we have time to spare. So come on. Let’s save that friend of yours.”

“Oh,” I say, like it all makes sense, but it really doesn’t. “Okay.” I have too many questions swirling through my head to even try and ask one right now.

“Follow me,” James grunts, and his lilac eyes pan away from me. In the brief few seconds in which his eyes illuminate the room, I’m able to take in the absolute size of the Hangar. It’s gigantic, larger than I could’ve ever imagined. Why would a room this big be down here anyway?

Even as James begins to head away from me, I can’t help but stare after him for a couple moments. Can I really trust him? So much could go wrong. This could all be a huge trap, meant to raise my hopes up before crushing them mercilessly. And even if it  _isn’t_  some sort of trap, there’s still so much that could happen. What if I make a mistake? I could do something wrong and end up hurting Miles more than anything. Something irreparable could happen to him. I could  _lose_  him!

I know I haven’t known him very long—hell, I crashed straight into his chest Wednesday night, spent six hours with him last night, and about two with him this night. But I can’t let him die. Of course there are the emotional and logical reasons, like how fucked up it would be to abandon him after all he’s done to help me stay determined, but there’s also debatably more important reasons.

He’s the only person who can help me change this, to help me make sure no nightguard ever dies here again. Two people’s accounts are much more powerful than one.

We can’t fail. He can’t die. And if I want even a chance at saving him, I have to follow James.

I hurriedly stumble after James, my limbs still weak from the oxygen deprivation I suffered not too long ago. He waits momentarily, illuminating my path with his eyes so I won’t trip over the miscellaneous metal arms and legs strewn about the room. Quickening my pace to keep up with the fast-moving Hetaloid as he turns to continue leading the way, I try to lighten the load on my heart with a bit of awkward small talk.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I admit, twiddling my thumbs at my side.

“Me neither,” James responds, barely pausing to spare a glance at me. “You’ve changed this entire fucked-up little world, you know that? Never thought that  _I’d_  be helping the nightguard, but here we are.”

I bite my lip. James is going against his programming too, it seems. But who programmed them to be like this in the first place? The G8 have to stay on the stage because of programming, just as the Bar Hetaloids have to stay in the bar and the G8 can’t enter the hangar. All of it’s programmed. I just wish I knew by who, or at least how. Any insight would be helpful at this point.

“How long has this all been going on?” I ask out loud.  _How many people have you killed?_  I ask internally, but I’m not ready to know that.

“I don’t know,” James grumbles. “But it’s been a long time, I can tell you that. Years. Maybe it’s gone on all the way back to the dismantling of ‘07 but that….” That would be over ten years. That’s a lot of human lives gone down the drain… and at that point, you’d think something like that would become noticeable. That brings up another mystery.

“Do you guys… kill everyone who works here?” I squeak feebly, nervous to utter such a question.

James glances at me this time, but just for a moment. His violet eyes are soft, the glow fainter than before, and they appear surprisingly non-robotic. “No. I don’t think so. I don’t really know what happens to them for the most part. Sometimes they make one or more of us angry…. Those ones often get torn apart. Everyone else… well, I don’t know. We have our fun with them, but they always end up disappearing.”

My head perks up slightly in interest. “Sorry, disappearing?”

“Mm,” James grunts. “They just aren’t in the Hangar anymore.”

“Do they run away?” I ask, the gears in my head churning heavily. It helps to know that there isn’t as heavy of a death record on the hands of the 2ps as I thought, but that brings up several other questions: where do they go? How do they get out of a place like this, that seems to suffocate you just enough so as not to kill you, and end up somewhere else?

“I don’t think so. We don’t have a circadian rhythm or any of that bullshit, so any of us can be awake whenever we want, power permitting. Plus, even if we were all shut down, we’re touch-sensitive. It ain’t easy to get out without us noticing, by any means,” James explains. Even though the main room seemed large, we have been walking for quite a while… so it’s possible that there are other, far more secluded areas.

“Plus, by that point… they’re probably too injured or hopeless to move. It just seems unlikely,” James continues with a shrug.

“So you… just don’t know what happens to your victims?”

“Pretty much,” James sighs, side-eyeing me again. I suppose I should probably be a little less accusative with my language, even if it is completely called for.

I’m about to continue the conversation when James claps his hand over my breathing mask, effectively startling me into silence. “One moment. Don’t breathe,” he orders in a voice quieter than a pin dropping. I quickly nod as he steps away carefully, pulling my mask down so as to discourage any breathing.

My lungs still ache from having nearly suffocated earlier, and the amount of strenuous physical activity I’ve been having to sustain all night doesn’t help, but fear keeps my breath locked and loaded.

James returns a moment later, though it feels like hours. “Breathe,” he states rather simply. “I’m sorry if I alarmed you, I just had to make sure no one was guarding our guest for whatever reason…. We’re here. Your friend’s here.”

The room we enter is small. Even without being able to see the walls, I can tell just how claustrophobic this place is. And there, illuminated by James’ violet eyes in the center of the room, is Miles. He’s bound to a table of some sort, all sorts of wires hooked up to his head and neck, and he isn’t moving. For a moment, I worry that he might already be dead, but then I realize I can hear him struggling to breathe in the deadly silence of the Hangar. We made it in time.

“Miles…,” I mutter, and before I can control myself or think to do otherwise, I race to his side. “Miles!” I shout, struggling to keep my voice at a whisper.

The man slowly opens his eyes, his irises cloudy with pain. “(Y/N)…,” he laments softly, his voice barely audible. I’m surprised he’s able to talk with how long he’s been down here. How long has he been bound here, struggling to breathe and probably just praying to survive? I can’t believe I abandoned him, even though I didn’t know. But I’m here now…. I need to get him out of here.

I turn to look desperately at James. “How do we get him out of here?!” I scream, my hands tightening into white-knuckled fists. I can barely think straight.

James looks unexpectedly cautious, taking a saddened step back. “I don’t know,” he admits.

My eyes widen as I look back at Miles. He’s in so much pain, his body shaking as he spends every last ounce of his energy on just staying alive. I can’t let this happen to him. I can’t! Terence didn’t die for this! Nothing this week happened for this! Hell, I didn’t  _survive_  this long for this to happen!

I  _can’t_  let him die. “Gods… Gods…,” I mutter, shaking my hands out to try and battle my nerves. I scan my lilac-bathed surroundings frantically. A terminal stands stoically beside Miles’ table, but somehow that only makes me feel worse. I just wish I knew what to do, but I know nothing! How do I fix something like this when I don’t know how to?

“How do I save you?” I breathe out, looking down at the terminal. I can barely stand to see Miles’ exhausted face. I would give anything to trade places with him right now, even though we really never got time to know each other. He has a life to get back to, at least.

Something brushes my arm gently and I jolt in surprise, quickly looking towards Miles. He has managed to move his arm enough to touch mine. At the sight of him, however, my despair only grows. “Miles? Miles, I’m so sorry,” I murmur, my heart sinking deep into my stomach. “I don’t know what to do to save you…. I don’t know at all.”

He repeats the motion. “Num… bers…,” he rasps, and my eyes widen as I realize what he’s talking about. I turn my arm so that I can see it in the lilac light, and sure enough—there are those numbers he wrote on my arm in thick black sharpie.  **18 46 93 42**  says my arm. Eighteen, forty-six, ninety-three, forty-two. The last words Terence ever spoke when he was still alive. Numbers that still seem to have no meaning.

 _Unless…._  I turn back to the terminal.  _Could it be?_

 **Eighteen. Forty-six. Ninety-three. Forty-two.**  I type in each number with shaky hands, fear churning my stomach into a tumultuous mess. Will this work? Can I save him?

There’s a whoosh of warm air, and suddenly, Miles bolts up from the table, gasping for breath as he collapses onto his hands and knees. I’m at his side in an instant, and without really thinking about it I take off my breathing mask and fit it over his face. I hear Miles gasp as he gets his first breath of air in who knows how long.

“Breathe,” I murmur. “Just breathe. I got you. You’re safe.” Already, my vision is beginning to fade out again, the strange, barely-breathable air blotting out my lungs. But instead of panicking, I just smile as widely as I can. Smile even as I begin to suffocate and tremble from lack of air.

I saved Miles. That’s all that matters, so I can’t even really begin to care about myself. Miles is safe. Miles is alive because of me.

I saved him, and that’s all that matters.

My vision goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucciola = Firefly  
> It's just a headcanon petname that I have Luciano using a lot


End file.
